The Family Secret
by Tendertooks
Summary: The Malfoys have a dark secret. Now 15, Draco has to suppress this morbid secret in his self, but it takes a lot of willpower to fight it. Soon it will overpower him, he’ll be weak in the sunlight and need blood to survive.
1. Fifth Year Starts

Chapter 1 – Fifth Year 

**Blahs** – Hello hello hello! It is me again!!! I've got this experimental fanfic, and I thought I'd give a preview. Warning! Harry/Draco SLASH! Rating might change! Disclaimers apply, blah blah blah. I wont be cute with you so on with the fic!

---

            It was an awfully comical sight. Harry Potter was sniggering loudly in their modest train compartment, while Ron Weasley was in heaps on the floor, guffawing so hard his abdomen hurt. Even Hermione Granger, the very prissy, demure, top-smart student was tittering away with her hands on her mouth and tears dampening her eyes. 

            "What is he –THINKING!?" Ron bellowed, between fits of laughter, "He looks like he's A DORK!"

"He always has!" injected Harry, as a matter-of-factly. 

More laughter filled the area. 

There was a very reasonable cause for all this starking humor. Draco Malfoy, the eye-catching, blonde, sarcastic brat was disturbingly seen wearing an atrocious turtleneck sweater and a black band tied around his forehead like some out-of-date mascot. 

            It was a pure contradiction since everyone else preferred less-conspicuous clothes, like normal muggle t-shirts, denim jeans and the like. But no, Draco had to look like a complete idiot standing amidst the crowd of Hogwarts students on platform 9 and ¾. 

            But Harry wasn't laughing about his peculiar choice of wear. What held him most amusing was that the usually supreme, collected, aloof Slytherin was looking abashed and furious at this whole ordeal. Why, Harry even suspected a blush. 

            Ron sat back up on his chair, recovering from the attacking hysterics. His face flushed, he took in a deep breath, doing his best to keep a calmer, equal voice, "So how was your summer, Herm? I already told you guys about mine."

"Well…" said Hermione, deep in thoughts. "I took muggle summer classes, mum and dad told me to attend it just once… And well I was pretty curious…"

            Even after, when Hermione and Ron started talking about the new year that lay ahead, and many other different subject matters, Harry couldn't get over that picture. That simply adorable—

Ugh.

That unique irk that Draco held up as he made his way to his own cabin, a few hours ago. Why did he have to wear those strange clothing anyway? Was it because of his father? Why did his father want him to make a fool out of his own son? Harry tried shaking the topic off. Who cared about that Malfoy anyway! 

But it lingered on a few more hours, thoughts and questions popping out of his mind on the Hogwarts Train. Occasionally, he would drop out of a conversation just because his thoughts drifted over to that "Slytherin Mystery" a bit too far. He didn't want to talk about it, though, for it would make both his friends question why Harry cared about that git. He couldn't stop himself, but in every neutral action he had done over a period of time, his thoughts were still upon that pale blonde. 

Even more ours passed. Harry's eyes darted from Ron to the door. Surprisingly, Draco Malfoy HADN'T come up to them, on their scheduled pestering/boasting/bullying time. It astonished Harry that he actually missed the blonde. 

(Of course, he wouldn't tell that to either Ron or Hermione. )

            "Well, it's about time" Said Hermione, looking at her new water-based dial watch. "We better change to our robes now."

Before anyone could reply, the brunette grabbed her muggle bag and was out the door. Harry sighed and Ron gave him a wry expression, shrugging. 

Harry and Ron changed in the compartment. After all, all they had to do was slide in their robes and tidy themselves up. Harry tried flattening his hair, but of course, after a long string of years trying, it had failed the messy contour that he probably inherited from his father.  

            His father. Harry mused lightly of what his father would have done. He, of course, never had a chance to talk to him –in fault of Voldemort— and he had always wanted the company of an adult that would approve of witchcraft, would help him with homework and give nice things instead of second-hand garbage. But reality was that his father and mother were dead. 

            Thinking about his parents' death made him suddenly seethe with anger. It had been Voldemort's fault that he had to live with the muggle Dursleys, that he had this goofy scar on his head, that he had never ever spoken a word to his father and mother who seemed promisingly pleasant!

            "—Uhm, Harry," Hermione said, as she cautiously entered, "I think you're going to snap your wand in half."

            Harry blinked, framed green eyes looking over to his wand, which he had a vicious grip on. He loosened it. "Sorry, Hermione. I was just thinki—" 

Someone slid open the compartment door. Three heads looked up to see the visitor. Hermione dropped her bag, and all Harry could hear was that small 'thump' and the monotonous, steady thwifting of the train as it sped through its tracks. There was a stunned silence that followed. Ron blinked, incredulously, exclaiming "Neville?!"

            Harry's jaw dropped. Neville Longbottom, who had previously been the stout, forgetful Gryffindor boy had grown severely taller (and thinner) then he had been, with a strong, well-defined chest, and a nice, firm form. He had straight chestnut bangs brushing near his eyes which were glittering blue, a bit enough to rival Harry's. 

Neville blushed, "Hey guys, can I come in? I got kicked out of my compartment for tripping on Lavender's cat and, uhm… sent it flat onto the wall?"

            "S-sure…" Harry replied, still bewildered at how different the boy looked. His facial features were extremely attractive, with a slim, shapely face and a gorgeous complexion.  Neville gave a charming (and coy) smile and stumbled over to sit between Hermione and Harry. Harry pondered over the fact that Ron was gaping and Hermione had nothing to say, and decided to tease them with it later.

Moments passed in silence.

            "So… How's everything?" asked Harry quietly, not liking the subtle stillness at all. 

            Neville's appealing face lowered immediately, smile fading. It took a while until he actually said something, and he said it softly, almost like a whisper, "My grandma died."

---

In the Slytherins area, Draco slammed the bottle of "Raspberry-Fire Juice" to the nearest wall and it shattered throughout the floor. Draco Malfoy, still wearing that horrid turtleneck and that strange bandana gave out another yell. 

            "I said I don't WANT to change!"

"Why?" Said Blaise Zabini coolly, sitting down unaffected at the other side of the compartment. He squinted his fascinating purple eyes down on the Malfoy, "What have you got under there?"

"Nothing!" Snapped Draco a bit too quickly. "I just have a knack for this turtleneck, okay?" Then he sneered up at the other boy, "At least I don't go strutting around in leather pants."

Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting at the edge of their seats, more than terrified, started chortling nervously at Draco's attack. 

            Blaise lifted an eyebrow, not a movement of embarrassment at what he was wearing, "At least I know how to defend myself, and don't go 'strutting'-as you nicely put it- around with two goons at my side."

Before the three hurtled over to Blaise however, Parkinson pranced into the room, balancing atop thin, high heels.

"Hey boys," she said, winking at them. Blaise sighed; the woman was right on time. She usually was, and he was particularly thankful to that right about now.

The 'woman' as Blaise liked to entitle, had grown a few inches over the summer and was taller than the average girl. Her pug face had changed into one of the skinny type, but her russet curls gave her appearance a rounder approach. She had dark eyes and luscious lips to match, and to most Slytherins, an attractive, bad-girl on high standards. 

The moment Pansy Parkinson saw, with her almond eyes, the very livid Draco standing in a ruffled manner, she grinned, and sauntered over.

"Pansy, not now." Draco said, tense. But Pansy latched on to his arm, curls bouncing slightly, "but—"

"ARG!!!" yelled Draco, pained and he pushed her away immediately. Pansy looked hurt for a second but then another sudden emotion charged through rapidly. No boy would just push her off like that! How dare he!

"Tut, fine! Push me! But DO expect me to tell this to papa." Pansy smirked haughtily as Draco suddenly changed his expression. But before he could say anything,  Pansy had waltzed off. 

Blaise squinted his eyes even more, leaning down serenely on the train sofa. 

Draco's reaction was a bit too much for a little of Pansy's touch. Something's going on.

---

Sunset closed upon them rather quickly, Harry barely registered everything in his mind as it all came too fast. Disembarking from the red train, traveling over to Hogwarts, attending the sorting hat ceremony had been done and done over that Harry seemed to have gotten a tiny bit bored. But of course, this was far better than staying in a smelly, small muggle house for two months, and so still, he seemed appreciative. 

            The week had gone off just as fleetingly. Lessons flew by, the Potions classes in exception. Potion classes never flew by. They stormed away, like a whirlwind messing the lives of many innocent students as it passed. 

            "Potter? Would you like sitting —like the rest of the class— or standing there like a fool?"

Professor Snape's low voice echoed throughout the dank dungeons, accompanied by insulting snickers from the Slytherins. Harry blushed, slightly annoyed, and walked over to sit next to Ron. 

            Between gritted teeth, Harry muttered, "I *hate* him."

"We haven't noticed," Ron gave him a wry expression yet again. 

"Just like he hadn't noticed that his hair's way greasy and he needs a bath."

They tried not to snort too loudly. 

"And—What— are you two talking about? Care to tell the class?" 

Snape was glaring at them, a wicked grin on his gaunt face. 

All the words in Harry's vocabulary left his mouth at exactly the wrong moment. And from the look of things, Ron was having no such better luck. This always happened. When a teacher suddenly gangs up on you, looming over with this frightening aura, you feel sort of guilty and caught, and you're lost for words. 

Before Harry could open his lips, and try to arrange a few scrambled, edgy words, Snape continued, "No? No explanation? Alright, 10 poi—"

A loud, horrifying crash made Snape whirl around, and Snape's eyes flashed dangerously as he strode over and found Neville with his cauldron on the floor. 

            "I, I—m sorry profes—"

"LONGBOTTOM! 5 Points from Gryffindor! And detention!!! And –what— is everyone looking at? Get back to work, especially you nosy Gryffindors!"

            Tense silence followed for a bit. Everyone (Slytherins in exception) looked away from the incident and got back to work nervously. Harry glanced at Neville strangely. That accident was awfully too much in time to get them out of trouble. Just as he expected, Neville glanced back up at him, hair brushing over his eyes as usual, smiling. 

And did Neville just wink?

Harry grinned back apologetically and Ron muttered, "I think he did that on purpose."

Hermione leaned in, "I think that too."

By the end of potions, Harry had asked his friends to go off their next class first as he voyaged over to Neville and ask what this was all about. Neville was usually stuttering, nervous, quivering and cowardly, but, maybe, due to the fact that his grandmother had died, that he had suddenly grown up. Rationalized. Leaped into the man he would be. And boy, how he grew! He was practically drool-worthy, according to Padma Patil. Half of the Gryffindor population hardly recognized him at all!

            Why was he so charming now? Why did he wink at him? Why did he purposely tip his cauldron over?

            Not looking warily at where he was heading, he bumped into a lean shoulder. Harry smelled the faint fragrance of raspberry before he was hauled roughly to the side.

"Potter!" Malfoy yelled, clutching his own arm. "In hell's name, do watch were your filthy feet are going!"

            Harry blinked and glared back, almost expressionless. Draco Malfoy stood, flanked by his two companions, cringing in… pain? No anger, that hit didn't hurt him at all. He was probably just over-acting again. 

            Draco, this time, had his Hogwarts robe like everyone else. But UN-like everyone else, he had black long sleeves beneath those robes. And he still had that retro ribbon on his head. 

            Spotting 'Potter' eye his wear questioningly, Draco turned away, muttering, "Why do I waste my time on you?" And walked off. Harry fixed his glasses, shook his head in confusion, and walk opposite of the blonde, over to Neville. 

            Neville was cleaning the mess on the floor. At this angle, he kind of looks like a cuter version of Oliver Wood, thought Harry, as he stopped dead on his tracks. Neville looked up at him, again giving a sweet smile, 

            "Hullo, Harry." 

"Hullo, Neville. Can I ask you something?"

Neville jerked his hand a bit too much and the pail fell with a loud, planking noise. Harry winced, as Neville picked it up and put it straight. "Sorry," he said, "Anyway, shoot."

"…Did you tip that cauldron of yours on purpose? Why?"

"Uhh," Said Neville, blushing beat red and staring at the floor. "Yeah… I figured losing 5 points was better than losing 10… I'm sorry if I did anything wro—"

"No no!" Harry said, now squatting to his side, "I'm really grateful… Ron too… Thanks." He gave out a hand, which Neville quickly took and shook vigorously, and then he gasped. 

"Harry! You should get to your next class! Snape might see you!"

Harry's head jerked up in alarm, and he gently let go of Neville's hand. He smiled generously, and whispered, "See ya later then."

"You too."

---

            _That clean, smooth skin on that delicious neck. How beautifully curved, seems so soft, and tasteful… Smells so good, like cherries and lime… _

Draco shook his head. What strange things to thinks of. Thinking of Potter's neck was highly revolting and… fascinating. He growled, pressing over to their next class, Herbology with the Ravenclaws, swiftly.

            He made his way down the corridors of Hogwarts, sneering at any Hufflepuff or Gryffindor that came by. His two henchmen were at either side, following him silently, and he walked, chin held high, watching the fear of the others as they passed him.  It almost seemed like the old days. 

But he knew the old days would soon vanish from his mind. He clutched his arms, feeling the overwhelming, painful scorches that it produced. He made sure his face was expressionless or wickedly leering though, it would matter much if they'd found out that…

_Don't think of that._

He let his mind wander. 

_Green eyes, half-lidded, a sharp cry, a whimper, a moan…_

_A lick on his neck._

_How arousing…_

_Oh… And sweet blood…_

---

Instead of going to his next class, Harry Potter got lost. How? He did not know. One minute he was climbing up the stairs from the dreary dungeons and the next minute he was in complete darkness. He had lit his wand with the lumos spell, and had tried to make out of where he had gone. But alas, he did not bring the Marauder's map along with him. 

He wandered around aimlessly, actually more intrigued than worried. He had never been at this part of the dungeons before. It was freezing cold, and eerily dark, the shadows towering over him like desert mountains towering over a small scorpion. But his bravery pushed through. He was put in Gryffindor, after all. 

---

            "HARRY!" Cried Hermione, as the Boy-Who-Lived legend sat down in the Gryffindor table. It was half-way through the dinner hour already. "Where have you BEEN?! We were all so worried, you missed History of Magic, and Charm—"

"Sorry," Harry muttered, shrinking in his seat. Ron swallowed his chicken pie before he said, "It's fine. None of the teachers really cared."

"How could you SAY that?!" screeched Hermione. Ron took another bite, and said, mouth full, "S'all riyt."

"Got lost," Said Harry quietly, and he shrugged, pushing his robes accidentally a bit downward, exposing clean flesh at his nape.

From across the hall, the Slytherin blonde looked hungrily at that skin with silver-sapphire eyes, and his tongue glided sensually, licking his lips. 

_Mm… I want to just *bite* that delectable neck…_

And he snapped out of the trance, blinking, horrified, at what he just thought. 

_Damnit._

***

Hello everyone! I hope you liked this first chapter, and I hope I'll get a lot of reviews for it! It fuels me into writing more! Some events might sound like it's dragging the story, but no fear, they have a purpose. Hmm, this story seems to have less humor then my other fics… Tsk tsk…Maybe I'll come up with some some more jokes next time. God bless!  


	2. Painful, Disdainful, Inevitable

Chapter 2 – Painful, Disdainful, Inevitable 

            _Painful. Disdainful. Inevitable. I can not complain. It is fate. I cannot stop it. _Draco ran his hand down his arm gently. The touch elicited a agonizing, burning sensation, like it was set on fire, down the trail on his skin. Draco could feel it through the thick fabric of his sweater, and he winced. 

            Eyes widened quickly, suddenly, and he looked around to check if anyone had seen him. The Slytherin common room resembled much of the dungeons, emerald flames flickering weak light through the walls and illuminating the room in an eerie luminescent glow. Shadows coursed through the smooth, grey stone walls as the flame in the fireplace danced. The bottle green, jacquard couches were deserted, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

"I am getting paranoid," He said to himself, mumbling. He looked up, and out the window gravely, taking in the dusky-like morning that played on right outside. The sun was nearly up, it was dawn, and he was waiting for the others to wake up and meet him in the common room. Draco straightened, squinting his eyes. The golden rays of sunlight did not penetrate the windows.

            "Should I tell Dumbledore?" He asked, voice echoing morosely. He kept awfully still, as if waiting for a reply, fingers dug deep to the arm of his couch. Nothing was heard but the breathing of his own. 

Then, quietly, a disembodied whisper sounded. 

_"No. Do not."_

---

"No, do NOT." Said Hermione, glancing up at Ron from the breakfast table. They were in the Great Hall, which buzzed quietly, of the many student's murmurs and gossips. The ceiling showed of a sunny Tuesday morning, bright, merry and uplifting. Ron's face was screwed up in a childish pout across the table, "But Herm—"

"No, Ron, look. Skipping school is –"

"It won't be anything important! It's just going to be some boring lecture!" the redhead interjected, and at that moment Harry walked into the Great hall, fixing his collar, looking over at them, smiling cheerily.

Hermione waved at him as he began striding closer, then she shot Ron an exasperated glare, "What if it is important? Ron, please don't."

"Please don't what?" asked Harry, who slid down on a chair next to Ron. Ron mumbled incoherently the reason of their little argument, and in reply, Harry inquired, "What's our schedule today, anyway?"

Ron looked into his notebook. It seemed he had just scanned it a moment ago, as it was already opened at the schedule page. He ran a finger down, then recited,

"History of Magic, Double Potions and after lunch, Charms and Care of Magical Creatures… We're gonna be with Slytherin almost all the TIME!"

Before Harry could second the notion of skipping, a loud sound of a hundred wings flapping in chorus echoed throughout the Great Hall and a swarm of owls propelled into the room. Harry spotted Hedwig easily, and she swooped down in front of him, landing gracefully without resting upon any food. Harry quickly untied her burden, gave her a pinch of bread, and she hooted, thankful, jumping off and following her friends out the window and out of sight. 

            "Who's yours from?" Ron asked, looking over Harry's shoulder to see the letter Harry had just opened. "Mine's from mum again," Ron continued, now glancing at his and reading through his (roughly opened) letter rapidly, "She reckons we be extra careful this year cause He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stronger and blah blah blah…"

            Harry showed his letter. "Mine's from Snuffles," he said, airily, "His says the same thing. Blah blah, blah blah blah blah."

"I think we should worry," Said Hermione, discreetly. "I overheard Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall talking about it. You-Know-Who's probably gathering his minions and preparing. He's smart to make the ministry think he's not alive and on the move yet."

Ron took a bite of his croissant, eyes squinted in concentration. After swallowing, he asked, "Don't you think he WONT do anything, then? If he does something to any muggle or wizard, the ministry'll know something's up… But well, maybe You-Know-Who WILL do something…Cause my father's awfully troubled…"

"Knowing You-know-who's out and on the loose has that troubled effect, you know. I don't think he would be doing anything yet." replied Hermione. She started twiddling her wand, not knowing what else to say. Her brown eyes enlarged all of a sudden, and she gasped, hastily standing up, exclaiming, "I'm going to be late!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, peering at Hermione's own watch from her wrist, "We still have thirty minutes."

He raised his eyebrow at Hermione, who smiled sweetly, and picked up her bag. "I have an extra class. Meet you guys at History of Magic!"

And then she ran off, her chestnut hair bouncing behind her back. 

Ron shook his head, "Women, the weirder type of our species."

---

Classes zoomed by as usual. Harry had a hard time concentrating, though. And he couldn't even believe WHY he was so distracted. Neville Longbottom has suddenly become even cuter than Cedric Diggory, and even Harry was starting to double-glance him on occasions.

            _Oh this is stupid, _he thought in his mind, wrenching his gaze away. Neville was a nice friend, that was what Harry meant. And he was pleasant, and handsome like Diggory. 

            Cedric Diggory. He had mentioned this a lot of times in his thoughts, too. A pang of guilt tightened around his heart. Even until now he couldn't forget those empty, cold grey eyes void of any twinkle, and that expression… Lifeless, haunted, hollow, dead.

            All because he offered the cup to both of them. His idea, his fault. All Cedric wanted was fair and equality, not death. But in the end, probably too quick for him, he had died. It was in an instant, with no words, no preparation. He was dead before he knew it. Harry wondered if he would sympathize the same way if it was someone more deserving to die.

            The first person (other than Voldemort) that jumped into his mind as deserving was – Draco Malfoy. He deserved to die, he had done so many things to ensure that Harry would suffer a living hell. He always liked the wrong things, hated all the good things, his family was clouded in darkness, he was second deserving of death. 

            And that very same Draco Malfoy was currently walking up the dirt road towards Hagrid's cabin. The Slytherins were late, Draco Malfoy led the way, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him. Harry eyed the attractive blonde for a bit. 

            Then looked away, resisting the urge of chuckling. He still had that strange cloth tied up his head. And still had that shirt that made sure that he was ultimately covered. Harry really wondered, since it was summertime, of how hot it was beneath those clothes. Draco Malfoy was a strange and impractical one.

"Move, Potter, or do you really enjoy blocking people's way? Makes you more noticeable, doesn't it, celebrity?" said Malfoy sharply. 

Harry glared back at him menacingly, "And do you enjoy those clothes so much, Malfoy? It makes you look eccentric, doesn't it?"

There was a pink tinge that appeared on Draco's cheeks, but he said nothing, trying his best to remain expressionless. Goyle grunted, advancing a step forward, beady eyes squinting down, but Harry, already sensing danger, turned and walked away, closer over so that Hagrid could see him. And they all knew he could punch way harder than Goyle.

            Hermione, who was busy talking with Lavander about the History of Magic project, spotted Hagrid as well and politely excused herself, walking up to the half-giant with a pleasant smile. 

            "Ey, 'Arry, 'Ermione! Where's Ron?" Hagrid said, slapping Harry friendly on the back. Harry stumbled forward, and both he and Hermione said, flatly, simultaneously, "In the bathroom."

"Well, 'e better 'urry, it's gonna be late— ah there's the little runner."  
Harry turned and  spotted his friend quite easily, with his flaming red hair. He was dashing his way towards them with an enormous grin.

"Hey Hagrid!" Said Ron, stopping over next to Harry. He turned his lanky head towards Hermione, "Herm, I found out what you've taken as your extra class. You're taking up Ancient Rituals. I overheard that scary looking profes—

"—Professor Gillward—"

"—Yeah, whatever— he was talking about you and how good you've been doing. He said that at that rate, you can be able to top Lucius Malfoy, who use to be the best at his time!"

"Really?" Said Hermione, her grin widening in the pleasing news, "I never knew Mr. Malfoy was the best in— oh that reminds me, do come with me to the library later? I need to look up on a few things."

            Hagrid led the trio, and the rest of the class to an open field. Maybe due to the fact that last year's unicorns had rubbed off Hagrid, or maybe because these new creatures had a hidden, dangerous mouth waiting to bite and spur off poison, that Hagrid introduced them to their new project. 

            "Well, er… Let's start," Said Hagrid, proud at the expression of his students, "These," he lifted an enormous hand, " Are Diricawls. Muggles use ter call 'em Dodo birds, I think. Well anyway, these are pretty harmless, and disappear at will. They originated from ol' Mauritius. 'Yer project is simple enough, ye have ta try and catch 'em. If ye do, ye get two sickles from me."

Draco Malfoy, who happened to be behind Hermione, Ron and Harry, whispered audibly to his henchmen, "Weasley will need to catch a load of these to buy a richer family. Though I don't think anyone would like to be related to him anyway."

Ron swung around, but at that moment Hermione grabbed his shoulder, "Leave it, Ron."

Harry clutched Ron's other side, resisting the urge on pouncing at Malfoy as well, saying, "It's not worth it."

Hagrid, unknowing of the little argument, continued, "This'll be your fun fer the day. Ye'll have ta catch 'em with yer own methods. The fence surroundin' the place has a charm on it, they can't escape. Ratio is one student to seventeen."

            The mad chase was off. As soon as they entered the premises of where the Diricawls – or Dodo birds were kept, there were odd, random popping noises and whitish-pink feathers everywhere. Students ran about, stalking, crawling, leaping, ambushing, doing there very best to catch these fat, fluffy non-flyers. It was actually pretty cute, with those round, expressive black eyes and a stout structure, with petty little chicken feet pitter-pattering on the grass, and rounded beaks till the sudden sharp ends. They even had this high-pitched little noises that sounded like a clear bell in their throats. And the way they walked, like short penguins on a fast-forward muggle tape. 

Harry had caught one on his first try, as the Diricawl had his back on him, and automatically there was a 'pluck' kind of noise and a tag appeared out of nowhere and hung loosely on the Diricawl's almost invisible neck. He look and it read, in bold letters – Caught – Harry Potter. Letting go of the first and running over to the next, Harry felt a giddy feeling. He was smiling, enormously, and laughing along with the rest of the class, catching as many as they could. 

Ron had much better luck, as he had caught three in one embrace, and Hermione had the worst luck from the three. Everytime she would close in on a Diricawl, it would turn and look at her, hoot that bell noise, and disappear in the popping noise and leave pink feathers flying at her face. And the only thing she did was – laugh. The rest of the class had large grins on their faces too, and the yards were deciding-ly noisy with the fifth year's joys and shouts. The atmosphere was light and happy, it was as if they had no more troubles (except for the task at hand) and they were first years again.  

            As Harry closed in on his third one, there was a sudden, piercing light that shot at his forehead, and he could tell was that he was stumbling backwards as the light spread over to his eyes. He looked around, it was suddenly silent. But he saw only bright whiteness, and even if he closed his eyes in pain, the white would still be there. The silence was broken by an ear-splittening metal sound that was even more high-pitched then a Diricawl, and this sound seemed so close to his ears. Then, the sound stopped. The brightness was fading. The flash was moving away. 

            Red eyes. Hungry, red eyes. Harry gasped, and squinted, but in vain,  because all he could see, was whiteness, and bloodshot eyes. Blood red, maddeningly wide. His scar burned.  

His own, terrified green eyes shot open.

            The next thing he knew he was on a bed, near a warm, friendly fire, Hermione drying the sweat off his face with a cold towel and Ron tending the flames. He recognized this place immediately – Hagrid's cluttered cabin. He could tell Hagrid was making tea, as he heard the clunking noise in the small kitchen.

            "Harry!"

The redhead looked up at them once Hermione said Harry's name. Ron widened his eyes, dropped the small log he had on his hand, smiled and made a mad dash to the side of his bed. 

            "—Harry, you're okay—"

"—the way you were shouting and writhing—" 

"—I thought you were having this seizure—"

"—Harry what happened—"

They stopped there, when Harry lifted his hand in silent request for them to shut up. Hagrid had come up from behind his Hermione, and quietly asked, "How ye doin'?"

            Harry still couldn't feel his voicebox working well at the moment so he merely nodded, sitting up. Ron helped, and Hagrid offered him a cup of tea. He took it with gratitude and began sipping it as if his dear life was dependent on that cup being finished. He squeezed the heavy mug between his fingers, and felt the hot-warm liquid rolling at his tongue and venturing down his esophagus. He could feel the soothing, comforting, familiar taste of Hagrid's unique tea and it felt like his voicebox had been revived. 

            Harry could faintly feel the throbbing ache on his head, but he dismissed it at the moment. Putting down the cup, he smiled at them. 

"—What happened?"

"—What happened?"

The trio had said the question at the same time. Harry blinked, and grinned, "Okay… Uhm, All that I know was one moment I was about to leap down on a particularly fat Diricawl and the next moment, I – err, am here."

He had missed that "Red eyes" part.

            Hermione looked at him, her brows ruffled. Harry admitted she looked pretty like that, with her twinkling dark brown eyes and that long, wavy chestnut hair down her back. He set his mug at the side table and got eye contact with Hagrid, who smiled at him behind that fuzzled brown beard.

            Hermione took a deep breath, "Well, for us, one minute we were minding our own business and the next you were wailing like there was no tomorrow, again clutching your scar, and you fell back. Lucky Neville caught you—"

That name made Harry's heart jump just a bit, 

            "—but you were still struggling mad." 

Ron picked up and continued, as if this was already scripted, "Then you jumped out of Neville's grasp, and Malfoy had to pin you down—"

Yes, Harry's heart was positively doing push-ups inside his ribcage.

            "And Neville –almost- made you relax again. Can you believe I actually –helped— that git Malfoy in straining you down, eurgg—"

"Ron, you did it for Harry and we all know that." Hermione said, eyeing him with a unique, Hermione know-it-all wry expression. Ron stuck out his tongue at her then turned back to Harry. 

Harry, who was watching them silent for the time, asked timidly, "Why didn't you let me go to Madam Pomfrey so she could cure a possessed boy?"

They snorted. 

"You were struggling so damn good we could only haul you here." Said Ron, "Neville, Malfoy and I carried you. Hagrid and Hermione were doing enough soothing every other student and the Diricawls. Wow, I can't believe your scar could hurt like that, Harry."

            Harry felt as if the world stopped for a second. The only times Harry knew why his scar hurt was because You-Know-Who or some other evil dude was pretty near or feeling a bit angry —understatement— a LOT angry at that moment. When he stated this out to Ron, Hermione and Hagrid, they panicked. 

            "You think he's back!?" Asked Ron, blue eyes widening. Harry, feeling rather drained, just looked down at his finger which was currently coiling at his blanket. 

            _Those red eyes._

            "I'm sure Voldemort just remembered how weak he was. I think it's nothing. We better write to Snu— ehh, your mom about this, Ron."

Harry's heartbeat raced a bit. He had almost said Snuffles in front of Hagrid, who now was eyeing him suspiciously. Hermione winced unnoticeably but Ron looked as clueless as ever. 

"My mom? Why on earth— ohh… Yeah, right. Forgot… Hehe…" That hard nudge on the rib from Hermione did the trick. There was a tense silence that followed, when finally, Hagrid asked. "Are ye ready ta walk, Harry? I need te tell ye 'bout somethin'… been meanin' te tell yea this for som' time now…"

Harry quietly and obediently stood up. Hermione and Ron seemed to have trusted that Harry could recover rather quickly, and true enough, Harry felt good standing up. Hagrid quietly led them to the back of Hagrid's little hut, until they came to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hermione gasped loudly. 

"Those poor things! How could –anyone— do this?!"

Harry was shocked. There was a small paddock, in which around fifteen to twenty, chubby little Diricawls were sprawled on the ground, unmoving, blood staining their chests. Some red liquid trailed all over the place and made puddles on some parts of the ground. Ron gripped the fence of the paddock rather tightly. Harry recognized those horrifying, empty, cold eyes. The mark of death seemed to have stuffed him right in the face.

Harry heard Hagrid behind him, sniffling rather loudly. He reached out with his small, pale hand and took Hagrid's large, stubby one, squeezing them reassuringly. Hagrid sniffled again, then took a deep breath, "Someone's been killing them… A paddock after roughly three days. Anywhere I put 'em… That brute always got to 'em… Diricawls are harmless, ye see… But they could've  disappeared any time... I was wondrin' why this thin' could kill so much in such short time. I even try ter watch 'em, but the moment I get busy with me old Hogwart's business, like the class n' everythin', they die… Even my Magic Foxes and Running Rabbits are dead. That's why I made ye guys chase 'em. Observin' ye, checkin' out ways of how…" He was grunting too hard for him to continue, and large tears were threatening down his eyes. He looked down, shaking his large head. The trio was quiet in respect, as they were led back to the cabin. 

 He continued gruffly, inside, "The bestes' way's how Malfoy and Ron does it… Ron gets em from behind," Hagrid smiled weakly at the pale redhead, "moving up to them quietly while dey're in groups. And Malfoy jus' stares at em, unmoving. Think he tries ter befriend em, cause they get close… And once they do, he swoops down te 'em… — a heck, why am I talking 'bout that pillock of a rat? Ron, I owe ye 12 sickles. Yeh earned em."

Ron's ears went pink, and he nodded, still looking at the floor. He was still in mild alarm. Harry mumbled to his large friend, quietly, "Maybe we can help you find out how to catch that thing, whatever it is."

"Do you think it's even human?" asked Ron.

Hagrid shook his head, "I reckon it's some critter from the Forbidden Forest. Whatever it is I hope we catch 'em quick.….. Oh, ye better get movin', Harry, Hermione, Ron. You missed Charms and it's your afternoon free time. I'll see you at the Halloween feast."

"Oh yeah," Muttered Ron, "I almost forgot it was Halloween…" It was a failed attempt of changing the morbid atmosphere.

Instead of going back to the common room, Harry, Hermione and Ron headed for the library. They had promised Hermione a while ago that they would gladly accompany her there. It wasn't half as bad as potions – Harry always found something interesting in the library. Now he had this urge to go researching on whatever can kill animals really quick, and why. Hagrid, after all, did nothing to deserve this horrifying predicament. _Just like Cedric never deserved to die._

Harry halted right before he would have walked into Snape. He looked up at the thin, pale man. Severus stood tall, eyes sharp and as black as coal, looking down at him in a sinister way.

            "Potter." He drawled out lowly. Harry took a few steps back, almost bumping over to Ron. Snape looked suspicious, "It's been five years of being your Professor… And you always have this habit of going somewhere dreadful whenever there was a tempting, free, late afternoon sun shining outdoors. May I ask why?"

"We just wanted to help Hermione on something, Professor." Replied Harry coolly. Snape would not get to his nerves this time. He would be steadfast in answering calmly and casually – or so he hoped.

            Snape looked mockingly surprised, "Oh? I never knew Ms. Granger –ever— asked for help."

His tone was sour and sarcastic. Hermione's face started reddening, in a blush of embarrassment and she looked down. Harry eyed his own teacher, "Please, Professor. You're blocking the way."

Squinting his eyes down on Harry, Snape moved away, muttering, "Certainly. 5 points from Gryffindor, by the way, for being such insufferably suspicious dunderheads."  

The library was exceptionally cool. It was a maze of around hundreds of overly tall bookshelves, reaching over to the ceiling, filled with books ranging from paper-thin to around six inches. The chandelier proved to be quite intense, as the light made the whole library stunningly brighter. Hermione brandished her book, _Student's_ _Encyclopedia of_ _Rituals and Mantras_ by Rothmathilda Hedrowens, and placed it carefully on the table. Harry decided to look around for a bit, while Ron sat with Hermione, looking over at the encyclopedia. 

            "I think you like Rituals," teased Hermione. Ron grinned, "Too bad they only allow you if you're above average on every other class."

Harry sat down silently in the small, round table. He flipped the page of his found book, _Enchanting, Graceful and Dangerous_ by Honey Dulock, looking for an unspecific animal that slaughtered innocent animals in paddocks.

"Hey, this is quite useful," Commented Ron, reading Hermione's shoulder. "the Credere Ritual. It can make someone believe that he is something that he's not! We could make Snape believe he's an overgrown maggot, see how he'll act!"

"Or we could make Malfoy believe he's a, a, a— mosquito! Wonder if he'll really buzz around and suck everyone's blood!" Harry countered. 

Miss Pince, the librarian, shot them a very scary look. Harry coyed back down, pouting. Ron and Hermione sniggered a bit. 

He just –had— to get over-excited because of Malfoy. He was wondering why recently, he had been acting funny around the blonde and even whenever someone mentioned his name Harry would feel something…different. His heart would beat then skip, and suddenly, everything that he actually sees reminds him of his enemy.

            He looked down on his book. As if on cue, he read the title by reflex.  _Enchanting, Graceful and Dangerous…_His heart pounded rapidly. Draco Malfoy was enchanting, in his devious way, graceful as he is an aristocrat, and –yes, Harry had to agree— the blonde was dangerous. 

Hermione shook her head, half smiling. She was currently scribbling down some notes from the large book. Then she wandered off a bit, coming back with a large stack of ritual books. Ron started reading some more insightful rituals that they imagined they could do to some people. It was getting pretty ridiculous and silly by the time it was almost the Halloween feast. Only then did they realize that it was Halloween, and the feast was important to them, so they stood up, fixed their things, and left.

Harry needed to go to the bathroom. He offered to go by himself, and Ron, too preoccupied with the book as Hermione was with her borrowed ones, had nodded. So apologetically, (though knowing he wont be missed that much) he waved and ran off to the direction of the nearest bathroom. 

When he walked out, clean and relieved, he had spotted someone on the floor. Sitting down with his legs spread, huddled, back facing the boy-who-lived. Harry recognized that build, and that hairstyle instantly, and he tiptoed towards Gregory Goyle.

Harry wondered why this large fellow was not with Crabbe or Malfoy. He had never seen him alone before, and well… the impression was way different. He looked less terrifying without the other two.

Beautiful green eyed widened dramatically when he saw what Goyle was doing. Or rather— drawing. He gasped a little, a bit enough for the other boy to hear, and Goyle turned, clutching his paper and quill, eyes shivering in fright, "Potter!"

Harry blinked, and stepped back as the porky teen stumbled to his feet. Harry muttered, softly, disbelievingly, "—Why—… did you draw that?"

Goyle opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out. He closed it, then attempted to say something again, but he shut it. He was red to the bones now, and in an instant, he had turned and fled. 

---

He saw Potter. How could he miss the raven-head? Draco watched as Potter wheeled his way to his seat. It was the Halloween feast, and he was unusually late. Draco fingered his fork as he stared at Potter's form, as the boy was chit-chatting away to some boys at the Gryffindor table. Another person caught his eye.

            Longbottom.

            Draco bent his fork, in a fury of sudden rage. It didn't feel good, with that Longbottom, especially when he had seen him holding Potter in his arms, while Potter was struggling so defiantly, complaining that his damn scar hurt. Care of Magical Creatures had turned out to be a wreck all because of that celebrity. The bastard. 

            Draco wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what Longbottom had felt, it was painted right on his face. He loved Harry, or maybe had a crush on him, and, even though Draco didn't know why, it made him sizzle in anger. Whenever Neville, or, more recently, whenever –anyone— laid a finger on Potter, he would already possess this unfortunate aura… of hate. And not because of Potter, but of who was touching him.

Parkinson poked Draco's arm gently. Draco recruited savagely, turning to glare at her. But then his eyes soften, and he noted, "I was deep in thought."

The female Slytherin raised a slender eyebrow, "you've been thinking all day. Darling, you're jaded. All you ever did today was sit and stare. What's up with you?"

Draco shrugged, "Tired."

"Uh huh," She nodded her head sarcastically, "You're tired… And what did you do yesterday? Same thing. Sit and stare. You'd think I'd need to prod you with something."

"Mind your own business, Parkinson."

She grinned, "My business is you."

At unspeakably thee wrong moment, Draco felt a throbbing ache on his throat. Like his heart had crawled up and got stuck up there. He suddenly couldn't breathe, and he knew why. He got up, muttered some goodbye, and sped off.

_Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. _

He was out the door. Making sure he was out of sight, Draco slumped upon a wall, breathing heavily. He wiped off his sweat with his sleeve, not minding the sizzling pain that it caused for his arm. He heard a voice, 

_"We will need human blood now, boy."_

"no… I cant…"

_"Scared?"_

Draco stared, not answering. 

"Ah, I see. You do not like the consequences, of being caught or unintentionally killing. But we need sweet blood Draco… Especially… his… his… his…"

"NO!!!" Draco yelled, clasping his hands to his ears. Draco was sure that yell would get to the Great Hall, but he didn't care. All he wanted was that voice, that was driving him insane, to shut up. But the voice did not even soften.

"Sweet blood, yes… imagine it. Listen to your origins, Draco. Listen to yourself… Let me merge a bit and I shall show you."

Draco Malfoy, the once arrogant prick, slumped down onto the floor… His world was moving up and down, left and right, topsy turvy. He felt like a javelin was forced right into his head and was being twisted, it was a terrible pain. He was heaving harder, he could not breathe again. He wanted out of it, he wished to be normal again… But alas, it was painful, disdainful and inevitable, and fate had no backdoor.

Then, it ceased. He stopped shuddering, stopped making strange noises, stopped clampering himself, stopped scrunching into the wall. 

And when Draco Malfoy looked up,

                                    He had glowing, blood-red eyes. 

"Potter…" He growled.

---

Whoo-hoo! I'm still sorry for some of the somewhat unnecessary scenes! Oh well. Please review. I do have the next chapter, but I'll post it if I like the number of my reviews. Buahahaha!!! Oh by the way, I appreciate the British slang reference thingie! But I don't know how to navigate… I don't know where to go… oh well I'll just look. Philippines was under the Americans, not the Brits, so please pardon me with my grammatically wrong (ehehe) American English. God Bless! 

Pythia, btw, yes. Your vampire book inspired me. I got into a vampire obsession. We all know that having two obsessions (the other still Draco Malfoy) would have a crossbeed result. Thus – Yes. Draco is a vampire. I made it too obvious, anyway. 

I have not ruined it. Why? Cause he's a –strange— and –different— type of vampire………There are still a few twist here and there. 

BUAHAHAHA!!!


	3. The Night Intruder

Chapter 3 The Night Intruder 

            "Draco's acting awfully different," Pansy noted, staring after Draco, who had run up the old, creaking spiral staircase. Everyone in the common room had heard the heavy doors of the boy's dormitory slam shut, and Pansy blinked and sounded slightly worried.

Blaise Zabini, the handsome, purple-eyed, black-haired Slytherin glanced up from his homework, looking amused, "We've noticed. Every night he would be moaning and writhing. Maybe he has this urge to ravish you, Pansy."

Pansy cocked up a brow, "Knock it off, Blaise."

"Yea," Blaise said, grinning widely, "Millicent's probably more of his type, anyway." He looked around for Millicent to shoot malicious teasing stares, but found only a few fifth years, a bunch of third years Slytherin girls and even fewer first years. Blaise half expected Millicent Bulstrode to be in bed at this time anyway. 

Eyes shifted to the woman, "Where's Goyle? He definitely does not go to sleep at this time, twelve is too early for him."

Pansy looked around as well, placing her slender hands on her shapely hips, "I don't really know. I didn't see him at supper. " She yawned. "Well then, anyway, Blaisey, I think I'll retire to bed now."

  "Right," he muttered, looking back down at his parchment. He heard the familiar creaking of that old staircase again as Pansy disappeared down the stairwell, (as the girls' dormitories were down) and shook his head. There was one line that kept repeating in his head. Yes, something was definitely wrong with Draco… maybe it was a crush?

A crush on Pansy?

Nah.

About the moaning and writhing part he told her, —He was lying. He *thought* he had heard some strange noises coming from his bed at around three in the morning, and presuming Draco had those kinds of  "dreams" he crept up with a smirk and peeped in. No, Draco was not having that kind of dreams. In fact, he had not been in the bed at all. 

            Strange. Almost as strange as the bizarre clothing he wore. It was as if he was hiding something beneath that strange long-sleeved, turtleneck shirt of his… Blaise heard that Draco would not even take a bath if someone else was in the Quidditch male shower rooms along with him, he reasoned he had been use to the privacy and demanded some while at Hogwarts. Hah, hogwash to Blaise, he didn't complain last year!

Blaise was bursting with curiosity and layback amusement. If ickle Drakkie poo had a little secret, he had to know. It was his obsession to be subtly suspicious, it was his given talent! And once he knew, torture would probably ensue. Depending on his best interest, he would announce it to the whole of Hogwarts on a particular time. Maybe he'll have fun sending rumors that hit close to the spot, he how they'll act, see how his victim will act. See how fast it would spread. Maybe he could blackmail Draco for money every day of his life!

 _Hmm… sounds devious._

He was put in Slytherin, why wouldn't it be?

            But then… Blaise sighed and looked up, staring in an unfocused way. There was some odd feeling he had inside him, some dark ominous type of feeling. He didn't like that feeling one bit, but curiosity DID kill the cat. If there was something mistrustful and evil about Draco, he was determined to find out. There was something else troubling in him as well…

            _I'll just pretend I didn't see those abnormal red eyes.  _

---

Draco was distracted. Pansy could not ignore this. He had been quiet, detached, subdued and jaded. Forgetful of the world and hidden in the deepest, darkest corner of the room in every class. When he was questioned, he would snap back fiercely.

 However, his school studies were not ignored. He had suddenly begun reading more often, it seemed. He was so good in Defense Against the Dark Arts today that the female teacher, Echo Hedgren, had to ask where he had found out about those dark information. Draco had not replied. 

Since the start of the school year, he had been this strange.  But why?

Why did he have to wear such different clothes? Pansy was used to seeing Draco wearing smart, sleek, expensive, top-of-the-line-stylish clothing and this year had been quite different. True that even now when you looked close enough the threads are weaved very finely, the edges clean and perfect. But the style… It was very… strange. Having a turtle-neck long enough to hide part of your chin was very unsettling indeed.

Pansy shook her head. She shouldn't be asking or checking on Draco. After all, he did not like it when people were peering into his privacy. And she did not intend, or even  *want* to be known as the nosy little bitch. Still, Pansy felt fear inching into her heart. It was almost like Draco was a totally different person. 

She also felt that there was something wrong… She had a very bad feeling about this. There was something about him she didn't like. Oh, Pansy did have a very slight crush on him, (more on Blaise, though) but with all the things going on, she felt in unease, wanting to keep distance between the blonde and herself.  She could feel something dark unfold, but she did not know if this feeling was just her fear, or if it was really a sign of danger.

---

It was half past two. Blaise Zabini simply did not care. He was the only one in the common room now, but he liked it this way. He was always brooding at this time of night, he would not be able to sleep unless he did… It was a ritual. 

The room was dark and sinister. All was still and lifeless, the stars twinkling faintly behind those windowpanes. Someone from Slytherin had bewitched the glass long ago, to make sure no light would penetrate those windows too much. (They left it like that since then, it was pretty comfortable.)

The dim, green candlelight in the room did not fail him though. They were tirelessly on fire, floating right above small, dungy end tables. And they giggled when Blaise stared at them. He rolled his eyes. They just *had* to be female. 

He looked down on his parchment. He had been reading repeatedly about the great Merlin and his escapades in his younger years. Truthfully, it did remind him about that Harry Potter in Gryffindor. He had always sneaked out of his common room at night, meddling with these things that often saved everyone's lives. 

He had heard about the Sorcerer's stone, and how Harry and his two best friends managed to make their way to Professor Quirrell. He had heard about the giant serpent… the basilisk, wasn't it? And how Harry (technically Hermione) had figured it all out. He had heard about Harry escaping Sirius, that murderous criminal who broke in one night. How Harry had won the Triwizard Cup last year, even if he was underage. He had heard that he got transported to where You-Know-Who was and stayed alive to tell the tale.

Harry Potter would have been Blaise's idol if he was in Slytherin. He would have flanked the famous boy like what Vince and Greg did (and still do) to Draco. He would marvel at him, be his best friend…

But Harry Potter was a goody-goody. That was *not* his type for a best friend. He could just imagine all the little complaints he would make if Blaise did any wrong. 'But Blaise, that's *hers*' 'But Blaise, you'll be caught…' 'Blaise, that's cruel!' Ugh. That would suck.

Blaise snapped out of his trance and watched his blonde classmate thunder down the creaking steps of the stairway. Draco did not see him. Where was he going? A sudden feeling of snoopy-ness washed over him like a blast of ice-cold water. He shot out of his seat, his parchment forgotten, following Draco out of the Slytherin common room. 

Draco was walking differently, Blaise noted. He had often sauntered with precise, brushing, magnificently *perfect* steps, his shoulders bold, upright and stiff, chin held high. It was, after all, the way he was brought up, elegant, aristocratic, with a presence of a vain predisposition that made Richie Rich look like a stable boy. Draco Malfoy was proud and filthy wealthy, and he flaunted it thoroughly as he traveled down the halls. 

But not this time. This time was a complete opposite. His steps were quiet, small, as if uneasy and scared. His shoulders sagged and his chin was down, looking at the floor as he went. It was as if he did not want to be noticed. 

This was very disturbing. 

Blaise clambered out of the dark common room quietly and trudged on behind Draco. The blonde boy did not take notice. He seemed immensely troubled, because he usually sensed someone following him five miles away. Blaise knotted his brows, and reached out, seizing Draco's right arm. Draco gasped in surprise. Blaise thought he heard a low growl, before the blonde turned to him, and attempted to shove Blaise away. But he gripped his arm tighter. 

"Let me GO!!!"  Draco screeched, struggling violently beneath the vice-like grip. He swung his arm around, trying his best to cease that painful stinging that felt like his hand was being chopped off inch by inch. Blaise saw anguish in his attractive face, but held on stubbornly. 

"Why Draco?! I'm not holding that hard! Why does it hurt?!"

Draco snarled, grabbing his ebony wand from his pocket and pointing at Blaise, 

"Flippendo!"

Blaise stumbled back, letting go. Draco looked enraged. He was heaving like a dragon and his eyes were wide with anger.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing, Zabini?!"

But Blaise didn't answer.  His back had hit a cold, damp wall, and he slumped upon it, staring disbelievingly at Draco. His purple eyes gleamed, as the green torches along the wall danced fluidly.

"Draco," he mumbled, for once losing his cool, "Your eyes…"

Draco stiffened, looking at him stone-faced, before swiftly turning away, adjusting his black turtleneck and watching the floor with sudden great interest. He breathed once, and, not taking his eyes of the pretty grey ground, he warned, "Mind your own business, Zabini. Or you might just get killed."

He walked away, his Hogwarts robe billowing behind him as he took fast strides, disappearing into the darkness. Blaise's mouth hung open, speechless. 

Those eyes were definitely red.

***

Draco could hear him. He could not move, though, instead something— someone else was moving him. Prodding him to walk. It was shameful to obey, but he could not stop himself. Was he under the Imperius curse? No. The Imperius would order him around. He was not being ordered, he practically did not know what he would be doing. He could only hear another voice talking to him, lecturing... not commanding. 

"We could hear the river in his veins, we know it can quench our thirst. Blood is sinful to the eye, and it is a drug we feed upon, boy. It is delicious and sweet, wonderful to taste. Especially that boy's… You remember his face well, is he someone you like? No matter, we will get him… We will soothe our thirst through his lovely bright red blood…"

***

            It was a strange day indeed, agreed Harry. He kept picturing that little incident that happened in the Great Hall. He remembered it so clearly. Bright pumpkin lights hanging in midair, surrounding the four long tables that separated each house. The sky outside was calm and dark, and the room was filled with the scent of the wonderful feast. The Halloween feast.

He had come late, but he did not mind. Not much people paid attention as he sat down for once. He was glad for it. Having too much popularity did irritate Harry, he wondered why Ron wanted it so much. 

He was minding his own business when it happened. It was no secret, almost everyone turned around and the room went hush. Harry looked. He saw a blonde boy running down the hall, out the door and out of sight. The room was suddenly filled with murmurs. He did not know if he was the only one or not, but Harry had heard him scream.

            What had happened? Why the hell did Draco Malfoy scream? Frustration? Anger? Joy? Why?

Why indeed. There was something strange going on with Goyle too. Drawing that mock-funny drawing was completely insane. It made Harry smile. A little.

Damn demented Slytherins. 

He stretched out on his bed. The gentle snores from the fifth year boys were rhythm in his ears. He was use to them; it wasn't exactly a problem when he wanted to sleep. Tracing the back of his hand down the soft, cold linen of the pillow, his eyes wandering over the canopy of the bed, he reflected on what else had happened that day. 

The red eyes. He could not forget them. That vision he had, the noise and the blackout. What did it all mean? Was Voldemort hiding under his bed, waiting for him to fall asleep so he could kill him? Was there this evil creature lurking around Hogwarts? Was it his imagination playing tricks on his mind? 

            He had remembered nothing of what happened when he was writhing in madness. Hermione and Ron had provided him the details. Of who had screamed, of who had almost fainted, of who did not lift a finger to help. And who did. 

Neville Longbottom was the first to collect his courage and hold Harry. It made Harry grin wider. It was particularly peculiar of why he did. He had been thinking of Neville for a long time now. Since the time he found out about his parents' predicament. He felt pity for the boy, and maybe there was something beneath that, too. Actually he felt pity for the forgetful lad since a long time ago. Draco Malfoy had loved bullying him.

Draco Malfoy. The second one to help him. It had been quite of a nasty shock when he pictured the selfish little prat pinning him down, while he was flailing his arms around and attacking everything like a blind bull. He had never imagined his cold arch-nemesis contributing his strength to helping everyone else and "Potter." He almost chuckled loudly, but instead he managed a small grunt of amusement. 

            A sleepy voice near his bed, "Harry?"

"You're still awake Ron? Sorry."

A slight groan, "Go to sleep…"

Sleep. He didn't want to sleep yet. He was… not… —yawn— …sleepy.

His eyes involuntarily shut close. 

* 

Shadows looming over me, like rabid beasts sulking in the dark, eyeing its prey. Hanging drearily, like the feelings of guilt and bothersome regret. Fear courses through my veins, my heart pumps faster and faster.

I see blood. 

The warm crimson trickles down my body. I am bare. I am stained with blood and I do not know why. 

Why?

A blinding flash of white. A burning heat cloaking my flesh. 

Then darkness.

Where am I?

There! I see something beneath these sheets of black. A glowing emblem hovering, floating across, towards me. 

I gasp as the atrocious design registers in my mind. A skull…no… It is more than that.

The Dark Mark.

With gleaming crimson eyes?!

*

Harry Potter's eyes shot open, bright emerald gems shining in the still room. Sitting up abruptly, he gripped the hem of his covers, wildly scanning the area. He had heard something, and so he asked, quite quietly,

"Who's there? Who's awake?"

No one answered. But something that blended into the shadows shifted. He looked at it, but could not distinguish what it was. Harry Potter immediately grabbed his glasses from his bedside table and attempted to crawl out of bed. 

The mysterious shadow backed away as Harry stood. The Gryffindor fifth-year's quarters was reeking with darkness and stillness, only Harry and the intruder stood awake, barely three meters away from each other. They were just standing there, waiting for the first to move.  

Harry squinted his eyes, trying hard to figure the intruder's facial features but it was too dim to see anything more than a tall silhouette of a teenage boy. 

Suddenly, the silhouette swiftly turned and ran, so Harry jerked in action. He too crept cautiously and quickly, following the trespasser. 

   They weaved among beds, and trunks and many other obscure obstacles, Harry bit his lip as he passed by his sleeping classmates, scared he might rouse them. But his curiosity pushed him farther and farther, trailing the ominous shadow hastily.

            They came to a dead end. He had cornered the unknown boy with a large look-out window that stood even taller than them. He tried to see his face again, but the little rays on moonlight were not enough to distinguish his face properly.

"Who are you?!" Harry whispered, almost desperately. 

The boy did not reply.

Harry's brow knotted, "Why are you here? Who are you!?"  

The famous boy started to advance on the other, but the intruder whipped back his hand and opened the large, glass window. With one last look at Harry Potter, the figure jumped down. Harry gasped, shocked, and he darted forwards to the edge of the open window. The body was quickly engulfed by the evening mists that crawled upon Hogwarts at night. 

            The moonlight provided Harry with sight for a few seconds. He could have sworn that this intruder…

            Had pale, blonde hair. 

---

I'll have the next chapter posted if I have a satisfying review for this one. Thanks for everyone who reviewed so far. I have revealed little facts here and there, I wonder if you spotted them. OH! BTW! I'm not sure where I got Snuffles as the codename of Sirius… I thought it was in the book but I think it's not. I got it out of a fanfic. It got embedded in my head. If only I can remember WHICH fanfic had snuffles in it…. So sorry! If you guys know which fanfic it came from, please tell!!! Please?! Oh don't look at me like that! Grr… Oh well. Wehehe… grin

 God bless! 


	4. The Family Secret

Chapter 4 – The Family Secret 

---

As usual, Disclaimers apply. I have finally updated! Haha! My computer cannot stop me!! Thanks, Pythia, for posting that notice up for me, I owe you. 

I do hope all my readers would read this fic with great interest, and not forget to review!

---

"Blonde hair? Do you really think Malfoy knows the Gryffindor password?"

Hermione lifted a finger, "But we change the password every week since Snu— Sirius came!"

Harry watched his two friends debate on this, leaning forward on either of his sides. He, as usual, had told them of the night intruder and they seemed fairly alarmed. 

"The Fat Lady said she didn't see anyone come in last night," Said Hermione, with her bossy sort of voice.  Harry inwardly sighed. The way she talked felt like he was being lectured by a teacher… it was downright annoying. Harry knew she had a pleasant character, he only wished she had a less know-it-all attitude…

His female friend continued, unaware of his thoughts,  "If someone could break in, they must have Dark Powers."

"Maybe it's You-Know-Who!" Exclaimed Ron, oblivious of who else might be listening. He brought his long arm up for a quick gesture, but toppled his bronze goblet clumsily. He dived down under the table to get it. Hermione rolled her eyes. 

 It was truly lucky that breakfast was a very noisy time and place, at the volume rate of their little chat they were surprised they did not acquire curious stares. They were, of course, relieved as hell. If people heard them talking about Voldemort they would have assumed the Great Harry Potter was up to another celebrity-bound adventure just like every other past year.   

"Voldemort does –not- have blonde hair." Said Harry wryly.

Ron shrugged, his flaming red hair arising from the horizon of the table. "Sorry. I never saw him."

Awkward silence. 

Harry sat up straight and looked around, as if bored. But God only knew he wanted a glance on Malfoy. He found it mildly surprising that the blonde was staring back at him with his grey eyes. They both looked away quickly. 

            "Well," said Harry, looking down on his toast and steering back to the topic, "It would be better if you never see his ugly head anyway."

The course of their chat shifted after that. Hermione paid little interest to their next topic – Quidditch. Instead her attention was trained upon Malfoy. Was Malfoy really the culprit? How was he still alive and well, if he had flung himself out of the window last night? 

Besides, there were a few other blondes in the school.

But why was Draco acting so strange lately?

Maybe Harry was hallucinating.

He was never delirious before.

On and on did this mindful debate continue in her head. 

"Herm?" Harry asked, politely worried. Hermione looked up from her trance-like thinking. She didn't notice that she had been pondering for a very long time. She raised a brow at Harry, who smiled, "You'll be late for your Ancient Rituals."

…

"Oh dear God no!" She screeched, shooting up from her chair and frantically reading her watch. She grabbed her russet muggle bag, waved and ran off, "AHHH!!!"  

Ron blinked, the head of the fork in his mouth, "I never knew she could scream that loudly."

"Only when it involves her classes." Muttered Harry.

---(The Slytherin's Area)// Simultaneous to the above scene//

            Draco blinked, a bit amused. He had just heard, with great volume, that Pansy Parkinson was sexually craving for Blaise Zabini. That was pretty funny. *She* was pretty funny. Imagine, suddenly shouting her thirst for him out loud! Draco did not look at her. Give her a bit of peace before everyone burst out laughing. 

But then… Draco frowned. He did not hear anyone's response. As if she had not said anything. But that was absurd! He heard it loud and clear! He knew his classmates would not pass this great opportunity to taunt, even though Pansy was a Slytherin herself! What was going on?!__

_"-It couldn't have been him.-"_

Now that was Potter's voice. Draco couldn't believe that his soft, natural voice was able to reach the other side of the Hall. The Slytherin glanced up at the Gryffindor table, as he was facing thus. Potter looked stunning as always, though sandwiched with Weasley and Granger. They were talking about something vaguely serious, it seemed.

He heard Potter's voice again. 

_"-Was it him? COULD it be him?-"_

It was definitely Potter's voice. It was definitely how the boy talked. The only problem was, Potter's lips did NOT move. Draco widened his eyes greatly. What the hell was happening to him!?

Some odd click snapped into his head right away. Was he reading the Boy-Who-Lived's mind?! Why? How?

This was part of his "change", he countered. He was truly morphing into someone –or something— he was not. And he would not be able to stop himself soon. He would hear that voice again, stronger than before, beckoning him to merge and become one. 

Beckoning him to bite Potter's beautiful neck.  

            Last night, Draco was glad Potter had woken up. The fear and panic that flooded his own senses were enough to make him snap back to the old 'Draco'. The voice had faded slightly, and he practically felt those burning, red eyes flash back into the cold grey ones. He felt himself slide back in control of his body and of his actions. 

And he had fled. 

            He was being chased by Potter, though. Curse that boy's courage. Draco had no escape, he did not know how to maneuver himself properly in the Gryffindor room, without stirring anymore boys into conciousness. He had been desperate, and it was actually a relief when he felt his body wash out of his own grasp again, eyes flickering back to red.

 He could not control himself.

And he had, by impulse, jumped off the window. 

When he had dived down, feeling very stupid and frightened, he heard that voice talking to him, telling him it was alright. And he had… relaxed. That voice seemed to have a comforting ease to him, that time. _Like a real father._

And what shock he met, that night, was the terrible, but wonderful feeling of flying…without a broom. He had flown down safely, fluedly, noisily, and caught a stray bird. He killed it, ripping the poor animal, feeding hungrily on its blood. It was less sweet then his other victims, but it was needed. 

Soon afterwards he lurked back into the shadows, back to his own common room, down into the dark, wintry passageways of Hogwarts… The dungeons.

He was sure that voice had forgotten to tell him that he could also read minds. Well, one mind at the time, and he couldn't control it. He wanted to hear more of Potter's thoughts, but it seemed as though he could not catch anymore.

Instead, his cold grey eyes traveled down Potter's slender form as he sat there, eating breakfast. That boy, from Quidditch, was perfectly toned and in shape. Draco could practically feel the radiance of his soul through that gorgeous body. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could hear his heartbeat as well, steady and rhythmetic. 

Luring him.

Harry's naive modest actions showed little of grace, but even less of awkwardness. It was… normal. Fluid somehow, appeasing, yet distinctly and alluringly natural…

_"-I need to see Malfoy. Ugh, my heart's throbbing again.-"_

Draco gulped as he heard that. Potter's green eyes scanned around the room and stopped square on his. Their eyes flashed as they locked on to each other. Draco could feel his own heartbeat thump rapidly. He looked away as fast as he could. 

_Potter said his heart was throbbing…for me?_ Draco thought, trying his best to calm himself. Was this his imagination? His stomach somersaulted. Did Potter like him? Did Potter actually have a crush on his mortal enemy?!

Draco inwardly rejoiced. He felt his feelings soar. But he would not admit why.

No. He probably knows I was there last night. He's scared of me… maybe he knows what I am… 

He watched as Potter leaned in to talk to Granger, who seemed busy with her own thoughts. Draco tried to pry into that mudblood's brain but failed. Instead, he got to read Lavender's thoughts about becoming a Divination teacher.

When Granger left screaming for who in hell's name cares, Draco heard Fred Weasley's perverted mind to… his own… brother!?! Oh dear… he tried to shut out those obscene lines but it was impossible. Instead the blonde Slytherin slumped down on his chair. He could just feel the small blush that was creeping up his face. 

It would take some time before he could use this well, he supposed. He bent forward to the table, took a bite to his French toast, leaning back subtly and continued hearing thoughts. Line and line of miscellaneous things from various students of the school. It got pretty boring after a while, but could he help it?

A strange eerie metal sound screeched into his ears momentarily. He bit his lip. It seemed as though his mind-reading capabilities had temporarily gone. And that a low voice replaced it… 

_"You pushed me out again, boy…"_ It hissed, _"I do not understand why… No matter… Why don't we merge forever? You do not need this Wizard training any longer. You will have great powers on your own. Perhaps you like the archive of reading you have now, don't you, boy? You can play Quidditch without that repulsive broom… You could kill all you wish… Boy, this is a great offer……"_

"No." Draco said quietly, making sure no one else heard. He was determined to stay in school. He wanted to stay. Somehow, Hogwarts dug deep into his heart, past his walls of icyness and aloofness. It was his home now, and it was a shame to leave it. (Damn sentimental things.)

He also wanted to stay so he could torment the life of his rival. So he could ogle the famous boy. So he could be close to the Boy-who-lived, and regretfully, the-boy-who-made-his-heart-a-flutter. He wanted to be normal wizard for Harry Potter.

He was shocked at what he had just thought. No, that last thing he thought must have been a mistake. He didn't care about Potter, he just wanted to torment that poor boy. 

So he would stay in Hogwarts to do that. 

 Just then he realized, that by wanting that, he became determined to overpower his own "origins." His own DNA. His own blood. 

Could he?

_"I see you still have not accepted  whose line you belong in, boy… very well… But we will merge again… soon…"_

---

Quidditch season drew near. Harry tried his best to shelve away thoughts other than his Quidditch training. It was incredibly hard. His mind always found a track out of concentration and drifted over thoughts of his personal life. Draco Malfoy was particularly hard to overlook, especially since he kept popping out often anywhere he went. 

            The contact of the eyes. The smirk that played on his nemesis' face. The stares that blonde would give. What happened to Malfoy? Why was he acting so strangely? Harry was trying his best to stop from blushing beat red every time Malfoy would brush against him unintentionally in the crowded corridors. 

Was it unintentional at all?

_Of course it was_, he thought. Why would the Slytherin want to brush up against him? Of course it was accidental. What stupid thoughts.

            And of course, his thoughts were also upon Neville. Neville was incredibly polite, as he had noticed, and extremely nice. Aside from Ron and Hermione, Neville would be one of the closest Gryffindor friends he had. True, he was still clumsy, but it was endearing. And, as Harry quickly learned, Neville grew out of his stuttering cowardice, and proved himself a brave and daring Gryffindor. He was always first into dangerous tasks at almost any class, and made Harry stand in awe of the sudden change. 

            He was still a failure at Potions, but Harry did his best to help him. In exchange, Neville would teach him about Herbology (and probably the rest of the subjects, as he had suddenly excelled). He and Neville, along with Hermione and Ron usually sat around the common room at night, pondering over homework and topics for school. The official study group. 

Why he could still remember –

Harry shook his head. There he was again, thinking about something else other than his training. He gripped the handle of his broom hard, and pushed it downward, feeling the cold rush of wind whipping through him as he plunged. Nearing the green field he pulled up, his feet almost skimming the tiny grass leaves gently.   

He pulled up farther, so that he soared up in the air, tasting the wonderful breeze that blew into his face. He smiled, swirling once, twice, swerving to the left, and diving slightly again. 

His Quidditch match was tomorrow. He should train completely. Tirelessly. He should persevere and be vigilant in Quidditch.

 He peered down from his sky-scraping altitude, and spotted the two heads of his best friends. They were at the bleachers, patiently waiting for him while chatting animatedly. Although, Harry mused, he knew that they were probably arguing again.

A swerve to his right. A drop then a rise. It was so thrilling to fly. 

He lunged down again. 

Then his quick, green eyes spotted something… or rather, someone standing at the edge of the bleachers, watching him, expressionless. It was a blonde with red eyes. 

*Red eyes?* 

Malfoy had *red eyes*!?!   

"HARRY!!!"

Hermione's voice. That yell made him snap back into reality, and he glanced at what lay in front of him. Grass. He was shooting down in steep dive, immitating a bullet racing straight into hell. 

He pulled the wood pole of his broom hard, trying his best to save himself from the fall. Luckily, his broom was obedient and he was able to level it back before the tip hit the ground. But his knee skidded the hard soil deeply, painfully, before a particularly large rock bumped his left knee, bringing enough force to make him tumble onto the field, his broom rolling violently askew.

The ground was hard beneath him and his knee felt like it was skinned.

He sat up right away, a faint dizziness clouding his thoughts briefly. Harry lifted a hand on his face, relieved his glasses were still there and in one piece. He winced as the sizzling pain engulfed his left knee, but he tried looking around to get his mind off it. 

He could see the distinct figures of Ron and Hermione, a bit far off, running towards him with pale, worried faces. But he looked around some more, looking for someone else. 

 Malfoy was nowhere in sight. 

_Strange._ __

---

"Mad I tell ya," mumbled Ron as the trio made their way to the Infirmary. Harry could see the blood seeping unto his dark pants. He winced as he limped away, holding Ron and Hermione's shoulder for support.

Ron continued, "You gave as both a fright, Harry. What the hell do you want to prove?"

"I wasn't trying to prove anything. I told you, I just warped into a trance. I was reflecting on… odd things."

"—Oh just what were you thinking?!" exclaimed Hermione, finally exploding after a line of silence, "You could have broken your neck, you could have cracked open your head, you could have—"

"Thanks for being such the optimist, Herm." Noted Harry in a monotonous, irritated voice. The pain on his leg was cutting his temper in half. 

Hermione adjusted the strap of her muggle bag, cocking her head snootily, "Hmph."

They made their way to the infirmary to Ms. Pomfrey who kept making disapproving remarks about having fifth years too much free time. "I can't believe Dumbledore allowed fifth years to have free times on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays… All the trouble they'd get in and the injuries that are bound to happen…"

The day went on eventless, if you disregard Hermione and Ron pecking Harry with questions of what happened. Normally, Harry would tell them all about it right away, but this time… He couldn't. He didn't know why he was so reluctant to tell them about seeing Malfoy with glittery, red eyes, he just felt like he shouldn't. 

            He didn't see Malfoy until supper time. And when he did see his rival, he glanced up at him several times, (thankfully no one noticed) and observed that Malfoy was still acting strangely. Now wearing his Hogwarts robe with a scarf on his neck, a band on his forehead and green long-sleeves, Draco Malfoy sat staring at his food. Not eating. Not talking.

 This wasn't the Malfoy Harry knew. The Malfoy he knew would be chatting boastfully about bullying his father into buying him this and that, these and those. He would be talking about how his mother gave him an extra fifty galleons for his weekly allowance. He would be eating with gluttony (yet with class), sneering at anyone who wanted to get the particular piece of chicken he had.

But this Malfoy was quiet and restrained. Almost… Delicate. Like if someone would jump up to him and shout "Boo!" he would scream and faint. He seemed to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Harry caught sight of his eyes. 

They were grey. 

Like they had always been.

Had he been imagining it? Had he seen nothing and fell because of it? 

* * *

_"…Can't stop fate..."_

Who is that?

_"…Can never change destiny…"_

Harry couldn't distinguish that downcast voice.  

_"…Cannot change who I am..."_

The voice haunted him though…

_"…Cannot change my origins…"_

* * *

Harry Potter woke with a start the very next day. Neville was shaking Harry lightly into consciousness. Harry had a very odd dream, forgotten now that he was staring at a blurry face. He groaned, and felt someone handing him his glasses. He set it atop the crook of his nose, and blinked, 

            "What's up, Neville?"

Neville smiled. "Change of plans, Harry. Your Quidditch match was moved to next week. This match is between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Ron told me to finally wake you up, he was busy accompanying Hermione to her Ancient Rituals… God, you slept like a log."

By this time Harry was sitting up, listening to Neville reverently, who sat at the edge of his bed. His stomach flipped when he realized that his Quidditch match was moved. And he had been training so hard! 

"Alright, thanks Neville." Said Harry, smiling at the other lad. Neville smiled, blushed slightly and proceeded out of the room. Harry found himself staring at where Neville had sat. He blinked, dazed, and proceeded to change and run down to the Great Hall.

---        

"—THAT'S— what your WEARING?!" Screeched Adrian Puccy, the present Slytherin Quidditch Captain. He was a thin seventh year, with dark-green eyes and an equally dark complexion. Blaise often teased him about looking like a monkey, and many had to agree, if they stuck a monkey tail on his arse and stripped him of his clothes, he would have been sent to the Zoo. 

Draco stuffed the last handful of his Hogwarts Robe into the small, bronze compartment, slammed his locker shut and whirled around to face him, "Yes. As a matter of fact, it is."

"Holly Cripes, Malfoy, I never thought you'd make this much of a fool to yourself. Get out of that ridiculous sweater and that cap and that –what is that, a French SCARF!?"

"It's freezing."

"You never use to complain."

Suddenly, Draco Malfoy was pinning his Captain by the hem of his shirt. Adrian's back pressed against the cold lockers a bit painfully. The dark captain thought he had seen a flash of red on those blue-grey eyes, but put it aside at the moment. 

"There are only two paths for you to choose, you git." Snarled Draco, " its either you mind your own monkey business, or that I leave you here for you to find a NEW seeker."

Adrian had nothing to say. Truthfully, Draco Malfoy was now second best as the seeker. (Harry being first). Draco seemed to have known of his valuability, because then he smirked.

Taking a deep breath, the Slytherin Captain looked down, "Alright Malfoy. But you better win this, or else I will have you out of this team."

Without saying another word, Draco Malfoy let go of his captive, swung around and headed off to the field. In that bizarre attire. Oh Adrian could just hear the laughter of the crowd when they saw that blasted fifth year…

*

*

*

Flutter. 

Flash. 

Catch.

*

*

*

It had happened so quickly. Harry couldn't believe his ears or eyes. He was sitting there, stunned, like the rest of the school, oggling at the Quidditch match. The finished Quidditch match.

"That was bloody quick!" Exclaimed Ron, Harry was pleased that he was not the only one whose mind blanched.

            "That just, just… impossible!!!" Commented Seamus Finnegan, who sat at the bleachers behind them. "The snitch was bloody moving! How could that Malfoy catch it so quickly!?"

"I've heard that when the snitch is moving in it's quickest speed, its impossible to touch, or to even see! The snitch does pause at some point, so that the seekers can spot it, but other than that it's practically invisible! Am I right, Harry?" Asked Hermione.

"…Yup."

Hermione shook her head, staring down at the field, where the Ravenclaws were shaking hands with the now-zealous Slytherins, "So HOW did Malfoy catch it if it was moving… That's a first!"

"It's like Malfoy has this sense of detecting snitches!" Injected Ron. 

            "His eyesight is…too good…It's like he's not human…" Muttered Seamus.

Harry, Hermione and Ron began to debate on this as they made there way back down from the high bleachers. The catch was very startling on everyone's part, even Professor Hooch had to ask how it happened four times. Draco Malfoy, wearing his clashing clothes above his Quidditch Robes, had won for Slytherin! Five minutes into the game and suddenly Draco Malfoy produced the snitch in his hand. He did not dive, he did not dart, he just "caught it as it flew by."

Harry could practically hear his mind reeking in thoughts of how he did it.

"Potter." A voice drawled out.

Harry turned and looked straight into Malfoy's stormy bluish-grey eyes. He dared not to speak, because anyway, he had nothing to say. He didn't want to go congratulating his arch nemesis, but he did not want to provoke a fight… people would say he was jealous or as spiteful as the Slytherins. 

            But he did wish that Malfoy would say something mean. Something nasty. Something he always said. It would give him an excuse to fight Malfoy, like he always had. It made Harry feel comfortable when they would fight, because of its routine this past years. It was quite a shock when Malfoy's next words were, 

            "I need to talk to you."

There was a smirk played on his lips as he spoke quietly. Harry glanced at Crabbe and Goyle who were at Draco's either side, looking at him expressionless. Malfoy's eyes shifted as he saw where Harry's attention went. 

"Ah. Crabbe. Goyle. Shove off."

They looked extremely confused. 

"I said shove off."

It took a few more moments before the two stared at Malfoy, then at each other, shrugged, and walked away, mumbling incoherently. They kept glancing back, shooting Malfoy bewildered looks. Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't quite different, for they too were puzzled by this. 

"Well, Potter. What are you waiting for? Tell your little friends to scuttle away. I need a word."

Ron and Hermione glared, but before Ron could hot-headedly retaliate, Harry spoke, "Whatever you want to tell me, Malfoy, you have to tell Hermione and Ron, too."

Yes, Harry definitely had his cool today. 

Malfoy sneered, "Scared?"

Harry glared icily, but refused to take the bait. Looking at him with the most bored expression he could muster, he said, "If you don't want to tell me, it's fine with me."

Malfoy's expression changed violently, and he was about to snap back with a mean reply, but no words came out. He took a deep breath instead , then with a cocky expression, he mouthed, "Fine."

Grey eyes flashed around quickly. Reassured no one was watching them, as Crabbe and Goyle went with Millicent, Malfoy glared. "Follow me."

They obeyed although a bit reluctantly, suspicious that Malfoy would get them into trouble again. They weaved through scattered students who all had spare time due to the fact Draco Malfoy's catch was THAT unexpected and quick. The allotted Quidditch time was converted into joyful free time. 

Finally, Malfoy brought them to what it appeared to be a small, luscious garden surrounded with forest-green bushes and dwarf trees. Harry looked around, and was surprised to realize that he had never seen this place before. How could he have missed this very isolated and beautiful garden? 

            "This is behind the 17th Herbology greenhouse, isn't it?" Asked Hermione. Malfoy merely nodded, too busy scanning the area for any life forms. Finding none, he turned to them. 

            "If this gets anywhere, Potter, Granger, Weasley, I swear I will hunt you down and kill you for the worthless little suckass' you are."

            Ron's eyes went wide. "WHY YOU LITTLE—"

 "—You'd think WE were the ones who dragged YOU here—" interrupted Hermione. 

"SSHH!!!"

They both stopped when Harry warned them. He glared at Malfoy, "Look Malfoy. We're staying here to listen or whatever, don't make fun of us if you want to keep your audience."

Malfoy's expression distorted into one of clear rage, like a while back, but instead of shouting at Harry, he muttered, teeth clenched, "Fine. Sit down."

Obeying grudgingly the trio sat on the grass. Harry watched Malfoy sit across from them. He inhaled, smelling the scent of sweet freesia and it occurred to him that the bushes surrounding them were blooming profusely. Such beautiful fragrance that wafted into the atmosphere…

Finally, Malfoy spoke, in a more deadpan tone, "Hn. Never thought of where to start…" Then he changed his face to one with a greater smirk, but Harry saw through that fake façade rather easily. There was something bothering him, almost saddening Malfoy, and he tried his very best to not ask.

Suddenly, Malfoy looked up at them, "It started this summer."

Ron was about to say something cynical, but Malfoy cut him off, "I know you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about."

He finally dropped that sneer of his. Though instead of showing his true feelings, Malfoy fitted another fake expression on his face – one aloof and not caring. As if the world could die and he wouldn't give a damn. 

 "Well, I woke up and realized that I was… bathed in blood. My clothes, skin and hair  tainted and my sheets were soiled too… I felt a terrible pain on my arms, and I found out that… they…" He sighed, solemnly, and pulled up his sleeves, beholding to the world the countless harsh, deep gashes, red and raw. It looked disgusting to see the many lines that covered the pale flesh, but Draco looked even amused.

"Funny, isn't it? Waking up one day to find yourself a mess."

Ron was speechless, and he even leaned back, as if totally revolted by the wounds. Hermione looked equally shocked, but she tried her best not to show it. Harry merely blinked, and quietly, stuttering, "W-who…?" 

Malfoy looked straight into his eyes. As if liking the reaction he was seeing, the blonde held his colorful French scarf and threw it to the grass beside him. There, on his neck, were more, large wounds slicing across. He was mutilated.

Malfoy was on the verge of taking off the cap he wore, when Hermione covered her face with her hands and whispered, "Please. You don't have to show us…"

"Oh," Said Malfoy, unfazed, "I have to tell Potter. You decided to come along."

He took off the cap that hid his forehead. Harry peered intently. There was another wound there, but the cut wasn't ordinary. It was a number. Someone had carved a number on Malfoy's forehead. 

"Forty-seven." Said Malfoy, smirking at Ron's greening face. Ron didn't hide his nausea at all. Malfoy ignored the other two, looking at Harry rather sternly, "It was my father, Potter. He and my uncles did this."

Harry was flabbergasted. He just stared at Malfoy, not believing half of what he said. Malfoy's father? The one who spoiled his son had mutilated him one night? The father who bred his kid so snootily would mar his own heir like a common wacko? What was going on? 

Hermione gasped. She had gathered her courage to peep in between her fingers and she didn't like what she had seen. But instead of screaming like a normal, annoying girl, she forced her hands down (which were now in fists) and tried her best not to look at Malfoy's wounds. Keeping her eyes on the grass, she whispered, "Talim…"

"W…what?" Asked Ron, watching her a bit worriedly. His panic-stricken eyes asked her with great intensity, and Hermione fidgeted under his gaze. She felt quite uneasy with a shaken Ron staring at her like that, but Hermione shook her head… Concentrating on the matter at hand. Brown hair swinging, she said, "Malfoy. You're a Talim!"

Malfoy smirked. "I'm glad one of you has a bit of knowledge, I'd die explaining all that."

"A Talim…?" Asked Harry curiously, getting over the initial shock. Hermione glanced at him, furrowing her brows and reaching for her bag. 

"You read this in the library," Said Hermione, directing her speech to Harry. "I borrowed it after you read it. I also wanted to help Hagrid on that Diricawl massacre, and so your book was of great interest."

 She pulled out the book, _Enchanting, Graceful and Dangerous_ of which Harry immediately recognized. Ron looked as clueless as always, but didn't say anything, keeping his temper in check as Malfoy adjusted his clothes back so that his gashes weren't exposed. He looking detached with this whole ordeal, but Harry knew, inside was a tremorous storm of icy emotions.

Hermione skillfully flipped through pages until she stopped and skimmed over. As it was a habit to read to them out loud, Hermione cleared her throat, and started, 

"Talim vampires are rare and almost extinct. They are often pale and blue-eyed in their younger years. They act mysteriously and darkly, and are often bred aristocratically. They have a strong sense of pride and ambition, and are cunning and devious."

"Sounds like someone we know, doesn't it?" Grinned Malfoy smugly. 

Hermione glanced at him and back at her book again.

"Children are relatively normal until their 15th birthday in which they are reborn. Their families perform a ritual in which the male division of the family damages the teen's arms and neck with the very tip of a silver knife. The father would then carve a number on the teen's head. The children will develop a sudden thirst for blood, sharp but small fangs and a second persona. It is said that when their scars fade, it is a sign that they have grown fully, and their two personas or two spirits will merge into one. And when they have merged, they have lost all human compassion and are soul-less, cunning, blood-thirsty beasts." 

Hermione inhaled, checked if they were still listening intently, before continuing, 

"Talims are loyal to the Dark Side, and usually, to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They are therefore considered dangerous and evil."

A glance between Harry and Malfoy.

"Talims are immune to almost anything, (garlic, stakes etc.) not like their other cousin vampires. But they can get weak in the sun and react violently when seeing silver blades. Talims are able to sense desire and strong emotions, and can hear the blood coursing through a human's veins not like any other creature. They can hypnotize, like any other vampires, with their eyes that turn either red or yellow.." 

"Red." Said Harry, but he guessed it was too inaudible because no one replied. 

Hermione ruffled her brows, holding the book closer to her eyes and squinting.

"The only was to Stop a Talim is to… kill it. There is no counter curse, no potion or spell that can… convert them. They must… be… killed, there is no… other way. Killing a Talim you must—…" She trailed off. Ron immediately leaned forward, "Must what? Must what!?"

"I… I don't know…" Said Hermione softly. It was quite a change to hear that answer from her. She looked at all of them solemnly, "There's a large blot on this page… I can't read anything else…" 

Malfoy, raised both his eyebrows in mild surprise, a smirk inching into his face again. Making a side remark, he said, "Hm… Books explain way better than my father does." 

He stood up quietly, watching three of them. Ron jumped to his feet at once and exclaimed, "You're the one who killed those Diricawls! No wonder you could catch them really quick, you hypnotized them!"

"Yeah, " Draco said, rolling his eyes, "That ruddy giant owes me thirty-six sickles…"

Harry stood up and helped Hermione to her feet. He looked questioningly at the blonde, asking, "Why tell us, though? Do you want US to kill you?"

"No."

"Then why?"

Suddenly, Malfoy swept up to Harry until they were an inch apart. Harry was brave enough not to move, but his eyes showed a tad bit of fear. Malfoy looked suddenly pained, and troubled, like a lost child as he said, "Because you're in danger, Potter. My Talim self wants *your* blood, I cannot stop it soon…" He inhaled and said, smoothly, "I'm afraid I might kill you, Potter. I almost did, that night… That's why I'm warning you…"

"…But… You heard what Hermione said," Ron pointed out, "The only way to stop a Talim is to KILL it!!"

The truth rode upon the atmosphere, thickening it like lingering fog. Malfoy's grey eyes lowered, "I guess… That's right. So if you're planning to kill me… At least, do it right."

Harry couldn't believe what Malfoy did next. Malfoy's cool lips pushed upon his own, in an innocent kiss. His lips were soft and Harry's heart fluttered vigorously. He felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, and he was dazed… The next moment, Malfoy broke it, smiled a true smile, one Harry had never seen, and brisked away hurriedly. 

The trio was too surprised to say anything.

--*Blahs*

I'm so sorry for this being delayed for such a long time! My computer is broken (using school property right now) and I have been unable to write continuously. My grammar in this chapter is a far cry from the last. This is because Mariki-chan/Anima-sama agreed to correct my mistakes last time. Her presence is missing in this fourth chapter. I was planning on giving her credit at the end of this fic, as she was to edit the whole story, but since I am unable to send email (take too much time on this blasted library) I cannot let her beta for a while. Darn it. Darn it all. I'm sorry anima-sama… Maybe copy this and uhm… snail mail me your version? Nah, too much effort…

I apologize for troubling you to answer my infamous thought of Snuffles not being in the book. I am deeply mistaken, and had probably missed the page as I flitted by. Thank you for the responses, though, and thank you for the heart-warming reviews that make the day (and work) worth it. Oh! I have to goooo!!! Please wait for the next chapter! And review! It makes good inspiration and motivation! God bless!


	5. A Strange Attraction

Chapter 5 – A Strange Attraction 

"Don't even get near him," Said Hermione, entering the common rooms quietly. She looked around and was pleased to find that it was deserted. It was always a pain to shoo inquisitive people out of their business. 

            It was after suppertime, but Harry, Hermione and Ron were still enthusiastic about Malfoy's confession. They had talked about it subtly on their way back to the common rooms. Harry fell down onto one plush couch, completely exhausted from the whole day. School was always out to drain you… He drummed his fingers in little anticipation as Ron looked around, taking in the lack of human life forms with puzzlement on his face, "Is it really that late? How long were we in the library, researching about that blasted Talim?"  

            "Longer than you've ever been in there." Retorted Hermione, dropping her bag next to Harry and sitting beside it. Ron took the last settee across from them. 

"Can we really trust what Malfoy said?" Asked Ron.

Hermione looked at Ron as if there were rabbit ears sprouting out of his head. "Do you think he'd chuck himself just for attention? Of course what he says is true, he even fits my observations!" 

Seeing their curious faces, she sighed, "That time on the Quidditch field? He had extra good eyesight. Too good, people would get suspicious. But he used it right away. The reason why he wanted to catch the snitch so quickly was so that he didn't have to stay out in the sun too long."

_            It DID fit perfectly_, thought Harry. The red eyes, the tang of evil spurring on his scar, the aloof expression, the clothes… His choice of clothing didn't seem funny anymore.

            How was Harry going to solve this crisis? The first answer that popped into his mind was to run to Dumbledore, although as the thought of it sank in he changed his mind. He really felt like a child whenever he scurried over to the shelter of Dumbledore's wisdom. Damnit he was fif-TEEN. Teen. Teenager. He should be able to deal with this. 

            It was not just his life Harry was worried about. Aside from protecting his neck from sharp, white fangs, he was also anxious for Malfoy. As much as he hated the blonde he felt sorry for him. How would it feel being under the gaze of so many teachers and students and knowing you're hiding something horrible just under your sleeves? Harry had no doubt about it— Malfoy would be expelled from school (as he is, an evil, dangerous creature) as fast as a whoop. 

            Another option of his actions was to kill the Slytherin Talim… But it would take time to research on how to kill him, and Harry knew, deep in his heart, that he couldn't do it. 

When you've known your mortal enemy for five years, have spouted nasty comments towards each other, have winced at each other's presence, you would realize that… yes, you would miss that selfish little scum of a git. 

"Just don't think of it too much, Harry." Suggested Ron, looking over to the brooding boy. Harry looked up to return the gentle smile to his friends. Before he could say something, however, two people shot into the room, hair chaotic.

Seamus burst out first, "Guess WHAT you guys,"

"You wont believe who's HERE," exclaimed Dean Thomas. 

"Who?" Asked Ron, definitely interested.

"Professor Lupin," Chorused the two.

            Ron went ballistic, jumping up and down in joy as soon as he heard. But Seamus held the hem of the fiery red-head's shirt, clearing out, "But he's not coming to teach…" 

That lowered Ron's mood, and he pouted as Seamus continued, "He's here visiting. We saw him. Told us not to say anything though—"

"But you know we can't keep our mouths shut, wouldn't ya?" Interrupted Dean. 

            The two boys went on about how they spotted this humongous eagle flying overhead. How Professor Remus Lupin climbed down the creature, greeting Filch and Mrs. Norris. Lupin had only a few steps before he heard something, Seamus and Dean were glad only their favorite teacher found them in the bushes that night, because they were brought into a small, pleasant little cottage and given tea. Lupin had sworn them both into secrecy.

"Erm, violated secrecy," Squirmed Seamus, grinning apologetically. Hermione rolled her eyes, obviously disapproving, before leaning near Harry to whisper, "I think he's here for the Order of the Phoenix…"

Harry knew exactly what she meant but kept his lips shut tight. He was in another world. For now, surprisingly, he did not care about Professor Lupin, his father's best friend. No… He was thinking of something else. He still could not shake off the other topic that they talked about before Dean and Seamus.

 He was still thinking of how to save his rival… 

---

Days passed with much frustration in Hermione's part. Partly because her Ancient Rituals happened to be a hard and strenuous extra, and her severe homework and schoolwork were suffering for the time she would research about the Talims. More and more disappearing into the library, Hermione seemed a ghost of a companion.

The two boys tried to help of course, but Hermione wouldn't let them touch her schoolwork. ("How much damage you might cause!!" she had said,) and so they fulfilled their duty as researchers for Talims. 

But as even more days passed Hermione became even more stressed, as a new problem surfaced. News about the slaughtered Diricawls had bubbled out somehow, and Hagrid had another case on him. Dumbledore supported him all the way, but it was Hermione who had volunteered to become Hagrid's shadow lawyer. 

"Herm, you should get some rest." Said Harry, looking at her with an almost pleading expression. Hermione shook her head, eyes never leaving the lines on the page, "Sorry, Harry. I'm on to something here."

An exasperated sigh from Ron, "That's what you said –Last time.—"

Neville had volunteered to help Hermione on her schoolwork on which she had agreed upon, (except for Potions,) and it had helped Hermione a great deal. She was glad Neville was there. Harry was glad Neville was there too, and truth be told, he did like his company. A bit more than necessary…

Agh. Stop thinking of that. Change the subject.

            One thing that surprised him, and probably the whole of Hogwarts, was the sudden change in Malfoy. The Slytherin had begun visiting the trio in the Library without his cronies, offering help for their research. ("Though I don't think anything will be useful," he scoffed) The trio had been very cold to him for the first few meetings, sticking to the "Don't go Near the Talim Beast for He Might Bite Your Neck Off" plan, but as time passed they got use to him. Though Hermione and Ron kept eyeing both Harry and Malfoy suspiciously, Harry could only blush thinking of that. 

Malfoy would sit closest to Harry, glancing up at him on occasions, and much to Harry's embarrassment the blonde would give him little twirks of his lips… secret smiles, which would make him shiver. Malfoy rarely talked about any small talk though, just stuck on the problem at hand, which was about investigating his own origins. 

But, they weren't REALLY mixing perfectly.

"Just as long as we don't become friends," Ron had said stubbornly, nose in the air. Malfoy had rolled his eyes and pointed out, "I thought nothing of that sort. You, on the other hand, pondered about such 'fantasy'  into your dundery little head."

Harry and Hermione hated it when those two started arguing. 

Things were getting more complicated each day…

---

"Draco's with them AGAIN." Said Goyle lowly. He and Crabbe had entered the common room after supper. Apparently their leader did not approve of retiring to bed and desired to go to the library alone. Both of them knew who he would meet there. 

            Crabbe shook the whole floor as he fell onto the Slytherin seats, Goyle across from him. Placing their very large feet onto the little table, they grunted and looked around, getting comfortable. 

"He's acting awfully strange." Noted Crabbe, only noticing it now. He sniffed in the thick smoke that swirled, trapped inside the room. No doubt the seventh years were smoking again. 

"Yeah." Grunted Goyle, "Awfully stranger than normal. Whaddya think is up with his long-sleeves anyway? Won't he ever give that a rest?"

That reeled Pansy Parkinson's attention, as she was also in the hazy room. Quickly striding her way closer, she eyed them half-heartedly, "Where's Draco?"

"Off with people."

"People…?"

"You know, Potter. Granger. Weasley."

Pansy's eyes widened, "AGAIN?"

A nod from the fatter one, "Again. Whatddya think, Pan? You reckon he's sucking up to Potter? You reckon he's got tattoos all over him? Wonder what happened to him, rarely talks about his life no more… you know, like… I dunno…you know? Wait… What was I talking bout? Ah bullshit."

Pansy gave him a wry smile, "Impressing, Vince… You got to keep your track of speech two seconds longer than last time..." She sighed, checking the foggy area for any sign of the blonde before warning, "I don't think it's your place to ask about precious little Drakkie-poo. He probably just has those teenage problems…you know… Such a bother to ask him about it."

Pansy Parkinson, being a girl, was deadly curious but also extremely personal. She backed off and never pried in for secrets. If she kept to herself, she presumed they would keep to themselves as well and not ask her questions. Thus, the warning to Draco's bodyguards. It was bad enough when people shot Draco curious stares, why be asked silly, annoying questions by his henchmen as well? He would confess when he wanted to, —that was Pansy's mentality. 

---

Blaise heard Pansy's, Vincent's and Gregory's discussion when he was about to leave the common room. He stopped in mid-stride, lurked a while, hearing Pansy's words. This made him scoff. She would not even ask questions about how Draco was doing? What a stupid girl. If she only knew how much fun it was to pry into others secrets and watch them live out life.

Blaise slipped out of the Common room, inhaling deeply the clear, but blistering cold air. He looked around, taking in the shadowy appearance of the Slytherin corridors, before trudging on, footsteps echoing.

Pansy might be forever curious. Maybe one day she would lose control and ask Malfoy about his secret. All Blaise knew was that HE did not need answers from Draco anymore. 

Draco Malfoy was as good as dead. Why? 

Because Blaise knew exactly what that blonde was. 

---

Draco Malfoy felt like the thumping of his heart was directly up his throat. Tears were stinging his eyes, and he was having the worst headache of his life. And he thought mournfully as he was striding along the Slytherin corridors, _Was it coming back? No. I can't let it. No, god damn it I will not let it speak!_

He had slaughtered another bird just the other night. It had felt terrible afterwards, seeing the putrid blood that stained his clothes, smelling the revolting stench, feeling the stickiness in his clothes and the dry blood on parts of his chin. Disgusting!

 But could he help it?

All rational thoughts fled out of his head once he bumped onto something and stumbled back. He growled lowly and glowered at the other Slytherin.

"Zabini you prat! Watch where—"

"Ah… Draco… Wonderful life you're having, isn't it?"

The smirk on the raven-head's face made Draco cease his insults. The blonde squinted his eyes, looking dangerously at the smirking boy, "What are you up to, Zabini?"

"What are you up to?" retorted Blaise, "Did you come from your night's feeding? Or just a midnight stroll to You-Know-Who?"

Panic rose inside Draco. He had this ultimate urge to grab Blaise and throttle him for harassing him like that, but instead his cold grey eyes flashed, "I don't know what you're talking about. "

"Oh you know EXACTLY what I mean, Draco…" Blaise's smirk widened, "You, the most popular heartthrob of the fourth and fifth years, a filthy _Talim Vampire_. Who would've thought?"

The reaction Draco gave was extreme. He gave one very menacing growl before attempting to knock Blaise with a punch to the face. Blaise ducked that blow easily, but he was completely unprepared for the lightning-quick hand that grabbed him by his neck and slammed him against the wall. Blaise was strangely comforted knowing his feet were still on the ground. He had this awful feeling Draco could hold him above the floor with his hands just on his neck… 

He looked at the blonde, a smirk still in his face and a bit of confidence airing around him. Malfoy may have him in his steely grip, and a flash of red glazed over that vampire's eyes, but Blaise held his cool.

"Who told you?" snarled Draco. 

"Why? Who else knows?"

The grip tightened. 

There seemed to be no fear in Blaise, and maybe it was true bravery or just juvenile idiocy that his next remark was, "Are you scared now that the word is out?"

Draco Malfoy bristled like a cat, and slowly, like blood seeping out of a wound, the core of his eyes became bright red, growing wide and glowing with hate. He opened his mouth wide, bringing out a sort of strange, raspy hissing, his face screwed up in some beastly expression. Those fangs were noticeable now. 

"Shit…" Mumbled Blaise, now realizing the danger he exposed himself in, and in a desperate action, he pulled up his right foot and kicked Draco's abdomen hard, sending the vampire staggering back. Blaise was on the verge of sprinting to safety, when he felt cold hands on his arm, clutching painfully. 

Malfoy's eyes were wide and wanton, and Blaise frantically grabbed the first thing he could. A brass torch. The green light illuminated them in different ways in seconds as Blaise slammed the base of the torch-bottom onto Draco's head brutally. Draco growled in pain, letting go and clutching his own head. He fell to his knees with blood splattering on the stone ground. Blaise held the torch in his shoulder level, not knowing what to say or do. Draco panted a while, before looking up. 

Grey eyes. 

Blood trickling down his forehead.

Blaise gazed at Draco guardedly, placing the torch holder back to its place. Draco Malfoy inhaled deeply, watching Blaise like a protective animal. 

            "…How did you find out about me?"

Blaise swallowed, staring as Draco wiped away the blood with his long-sleeves. The black bandana he wore on his forehead didn't show much of the red liquid, but the blonde hair showed blatant signs of where he got hit. Blaise finally spoke up, his cool presence rapidly regaining, "I saw your eyes Malfoy. I see what you wear. I know how to research, and I found a little article about your kind."

Slowly and carefully he took out something out of his leather jacket. School usually took points of Slytherin because Blaise would always wear muggle clothes when "he felt like it" but everyone was use to it by now. 

There was a leather bound pocket book. Draco could see through the sides, that the pages were extremely old and crumbling. The cover part, however, looked quite new.

"Page three. " 

Blaise threw it at the vampire's feet. Then, placing his slender hands onto his pockets, he glanced up, "You do know that I could just kill you, and get money for ridding something who's a danger to us here. "

"You wouldn't dare," said Draco lowly.

Blaise looked cocky, "Oh yes I would… Or I could just tell some person who could tell another person and…"

"Damnit Zabini! Don't you know how hard it is keep this all a secret? How long I've been wasting my time in Hogwarts, and if I get expelled…"

Blaise looked uninterested, "So why did you go to Hogwarts, if your bloodline was a Talim, hmm? Talims don't go to school. Their animals, filthy mongrels like centaurs, werewolves and elves."

Malfoy bottled the sudden rush of anger. Instead he gave a sarcastic grin, "Let's just say I nagged father. I always wanted to see how Hogwarts looked like. Besides, I had too much time at home. Look, Zabini, I'll pay you to shut up, how about that?"

"How much?"

"Whatever." 

"We could –" Draco stopped and looked around. Blaise heard it too. 

There was noise from a cat. A long, soft meow. And a very distant creaking of something… a lantern holder?

"Shit. It's Filch." Whispered Draco, grabbing the little bound book and getting up. He glanced at Blaise. If it wasn't such a terrifying moment Draco would have laughed. The look on Blaise face was golden. 

He looked petrified and scared out of his wits.

But in another second Zabini had whirled around and dashed back to the Slytherin dorms. Draco would have followed but another corridor in front of him started illuminating with light, and the vampire could hear footsteps advancing quickly. Without another word, he turned opposite from the Slytherin's dorms, and ran out of sight. 

**-**

The pain started again. The dull, aching pain that throbbed near the back of his head thumped harder and harder until Draco could not keep his balance. He slumped upon the cold wall, breathing harder and harder. He hoped that Filch wont find him here, he was completely unguarded.****

He hated this. This pain was getting more painful, more intense each second, he did not know how long he could last against it. It felt like his brain was slowly ripping into two, slowly ebbing away from consciousness and into darkness. 

The darkness looked promising. It would give him rest from the sleep-less nights of writhing, and the waking hours of hurting. He had thought of finally giving up to that voice, as he had no choice in the future. He had thought of cutting off humanity for the prize of immortality.

And darkness.

But he did not. He did not know this obtuse reason of why he should not escape this wretched suffering. 

Maybe because of Harry Fucking Potter. 

Yes, that boy surely made everything turn out wrong. Somehow, it had all gone wrong. Who did Draco blame? Potter of course. 

Was he the reason of why he couldn't let go of his simple Wizard life? Was he the reason of why Draco did not want to snag immortality?

What a reason. 

What a fucking reason.

Draco Malfoy stumbled into the room after whispering the password. The Prefect's bathroom was strongly scented with Asian herbs which fused harmoniously,  and the room was faintly lit dim orange by floating candles. It was warm, comfortable and peaceful inside, and Draco watched as the reflection of the water ripples danced along the walls and ceiling.  

Draco could hear another heart's beat. It was soft and relaxed, and Draco wondered who else used the place to cool off from an infuriating world outside. 

"Malfoy?"

Draco whirled around.

Oh lady luck, Harry Potter. 

And this Harry Potter was bare-chested and wet. His pants hung loosely on his fine hips and drops of water trailed down his nice, slender form. His hair was more tousled than usual, but his eyes were as startlingly green as ever before. Draco gulped.

"Why are you here?" The green-eyed boy whispered. 

Draco Malfoy glared, "And I thought no one comes here." 

"Well you thought wrong." 

Silence followed. Draco looked away from the other boy, eyes wandering around the warm room instead. The clear, shimmering water looked inviting, but with someone else in the room Draco kept his clothes on. Wouldn't want to make a vampire slut out of him, would he? 

Harry farking Potter was currently drying himself with a towel. Draco could hear the rustle in the fabric as he imagined the boy sweeping it down his torso. Draco made sure his eyes were in the opposite direction. He didn't know what would happen if he looked at the boy just about then.

"Err, Malfoy… It's late… Why are you here?"

"Why are you?" the blonde snapped back. 

Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm taking a bath,  Malfoy. Do I have to dance around naked to show you?"

"Yes, please do."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

"You said something."

Malfoy regretted what he said very much, but he did his best to cover it. Sarcastically, as he turned around to face Potter, he replied, "Yeah, I said 'nothing'."

"No, no, you said something, and it wasn't nothing."

Flat-toned, "You're giving me a headache."

"But you still said something." retorted Harry, very curious at what the blonde had mumbled. 

"It's not important."

"More reason why you could tell me."

"Look, Potter. Let's talk business. Not some shit about nothing…" An intake of breath, "I know some information about the Talim."

"But you said so— you… you do? How? What is it?"

Harry grabbed his own robe and wrapped it around himself, eyes still glued to Malfoy, as Malfoy brought up the small pocket book Blaise had graciously dumped on him. Harry walked closer until they were just an arm apart.

"This. " He flipped it open roughly and scanned the page, "Ill read it to you… Talims…  Talims are pure-blooded creatures, and it is their youngest child who turns into the heir… Other siblings are slaughtered by the youngest as an initiation to the dark side unless they do not have siblings… goodie… The number that is carved unto their foreheads is the number of ancestors preceding the mother's side…They usually have the best eyesight and can rarely read minds, depending on the strength of their will. They acquire sudden intelligence on the Dark Arts and an ability of flight as well… AHA! Found it!"

Harry blinked, but listened intently, walking closer to Malfoy. The vampire continued,  "The **only** way to stop a Talim is to kill it. The only way to kill a Talim is a kiss on the lips and a stab to the heart with any kind of silver blade."

Malfoy shoved the little book to his robe pocket, mumbling, "That will be easy, Potter. Hogwarts kitchens have a lot of silver knives."

Harry looked outraged, "I'm not going to kill you!"

"You'll have to."

"No, I wont." Harry looked as determined and as annoying as ever. Malfoy snapped and grabbed Harry's shoulders roughly, "Don't you understand, Pothead? It's the only way to stop me from killing you!"

Harry looked shocked at the moment, so Draco pulled away. 

"You'll have to kill me, because if you don't… You and your friends will die. And You-Know-Who will have an additional warrior at his side."

"you wouldn't." Said Harry softly, disbelievingly.

Draco looked away, "Oh yes I would. You don't know my other person, Potter. He's evil. He's different. He isn't normal."

"Then fight him!"

"I've been trying!" Malfoy yelled, surprised at his harshness. Harry seemed to have been astonished as well, and Draco used it as a stepping stone. He shouted, "You don't know how much it hurts when I try not to grow!"

"The pain is like I'm splitting apart when I fight change! I try to starve myself from blood but it doesn't matter! It always wins, it knows what hurts the most! It feels like your head is being cracked open, like your spinning and spinning so fast you don't know which direction it's going. You feel like you're in hell, Potter, like the heat would make you explode." 

"I've been writhing around on my bed every night, sweat on my face, trying my best to muffle the growling but it does not work! I still change, I still slip into that… THING… And it's getting stronger. And you better KILL me. The sooner, the better, it hurts that much!" Potter was speechless. Draco spat out, "You probably don't know because YOUR NOT THE FUCKING TALIM!"

Draco Malfoy was huffing at the end of this, but his steely silver eyes stayed steady and glaring. Potter did the one thing Draco did not expect him to do. The raven-haired boy wrapped his arms around the blonde. 

Draco Malfoy felt a jolt of electricity run up his spine. His heart started beating rapidly, and, he mused, he heard Potter's heart beat along with it. Potter felt perfect in his arms, and Malfoy slithered an arm on his waist, bringing the younger boy closer.

Potter smelled like delicious cherries, and Draco wondered how he would taste. Slowly, taking up his courage, his lips traced Potter's fine collarbone and up to his ear, licking it softly. He heard Harry gasp, and his own heartbeat quickened. He trailed more down the ear and on to the neck.

Then he stopped. 

The neck. 

Damn the neck.

Potter had noticed the pause too, and he took a sudden intake of breath. He was a bit afraid, it seemed, and he wondered whether to trust Draco or to pull apart. Draco seemed to have thought of the same thing. 

And the vampire bit his own lip and pushed Potter away. Potter looked up at him, with eyes that expressed so much emotions, and saw that Draco's silver eyes began to change. Into one of coldness. 

Into ones of red. 

Then the blonde fled out the door, leaving Potter alone and confused at his own behavior. 

The lightning thundered outside, and the storm began… 


	6. Credere

Chapter 6 – Credere 

** Hey, I'm really sorry for the very long no upload thingie!!! I might be a bit rusty in writing, please correct me from my mistakes. I would be better for you to read from the start again cause it's been such a LONG TIME!!!! I love you, God Bless! **

**--- **

The Quidditch match was said to squeeze through the heavy rains that followed a few weeks after Harry's " bathroom incident". It was to be held on a Saturday, which was drawing closer, but Harry did not attend practices. The reason? It was hard for him to take Malfoy off his mind. Again.

In all these years of knowing Malfoy, he had never expected this sudden "twist." He had never thought that anyone he knew (aside from the Darklord) could be something fundamentally evil. Oh, yes, he thought Draco was nasty, but not a pure spawn of darkness. But since Malfoy wasn't a human, since he was a Talim, he could very well fit the description of "Born to be Evil."

"Harry," Whined Ron, "You've spaced out again. Would you PLEASE move your piece?"

Harry blinked. Ron watched him, from across the table, motioning on the chessboard. Of course. He had been playing.

"knight to E-5," He said, absent-mindedly.

Ron quirked a brow, "You sure you want to do that?"

He said nothing. Truth was, he didn't really care whether he lost again or not. That night in the Prefect's bathroom kept coming back to him, repeating over and over more vibrantly then the last time.

_"I'm not going to kill you!" _

_"You'll have to." _

_"No, I wont." _

_"Don't you understand, Pothead? It's the only way to stop me from killing you!"_

"Shouldn't Harry be practicing?" Prepped up Hermione, who sat on a seat close to Ron.

"Aww, Herm…" said the lanky redhead, "Just after this last game. Besides, shouldn't you be resting? You've been researching too much."

"Don't change the subject," Said Hermione sternly, eyes never leaving her research. "I find studying very relaxing, mind you, and--…"

She stared and let out a long gasp. Both boys looked at her, confusion plastered on their faces. Hermione was never especially excited since their very first exams but here she was, a grin invading that shocked expression and in one movement, she stood up and exclaimed, "I've got it!!!"

"Got what?!" Asked Ron, curious.

Hermione did not answer. Instead, she took a few, long, quick strides over to her muggle bag and pulled out her Encyclopedia for her Ancient Rituals class. It was the same one as before, the _Student's_ _Encyclopedia of_ _Rituals and Mantras_.

"WHAT is it!?!" Ron exclaimed indignantly. Still no answer from the female. Sighing, Harry stood up and walked over to her, peering over her shoulder. Ron followed.

Hermione was scanning through the pages furiously, until she came across pages Cq-Da. She ran her fingers down until she came across the word, _Credere._

"I remember that," Harry said quietly. "It's the believing ritual. The one me and Ron used in imagining Snape as an overgrown maggot, and Malfoy as a mosquito. Remember, Ron, That time in the Library?"

"Yeah, I remember that… But what about it, Herm?"

"Don't you guys GET it?!" Hermione said, intonating her words loudly. "In all our research about the Talim, it states that no potion or counter-curse can cure them… BUT, it never said RITUALS can't cure them… What if we use the Credere ritual? It's the simplest ritual we can do…I know where to get a lot of the ingredients."

Harry's eyes twinkled, as he started picking up, "You mean we make Malfoy *believe* he's *not* a vampire?"

"Exactly!" Hermione said, grin never fading. Ron's eyes widened, "_Brilliant_, Hermione! _BRILLIANT!_"

Hemione flushed at this, before stating, "It was just under our noses!"

"Wait, Herm," Said Harry cautiously, taking back a step, "If we try that ritual, and he believes he's not a vampire, he'll become… malnourished. Even if he believes he's not a Talim, his body will still need to feed on blood…"

Hermione closed her book, a thoughtful expression as her mind worked, "not exactly. If the ritual affects the brain the way we want it to, even the body will believe it wont need blood anymore! I'll go and research—"

A bang as the common room door shot open. Two, red-haired twins popped into the room, wearing identical scowls.

"Oh there you are, Harry!" Said Fred.

"We thought you died," Followed George.

"Maybe half his memory cells are dead, George. After all, he USUALLY remembers when our Quidditch practices are!"

They marched, advancing on the wide-eyed Harry. Harry backed away, "Oh, guys, I'm sorry—"

"CMON, GEORGE!" Fred said, grabbing Harry's shoulders, as George swept up Harry's feet. "LET'S TAKE OUR LOOT!"

"Accio, firebolt!" Yelled George, and Harry's broom swished towards them, shooting itself down Harry's shirt.

" To the QUIDDITCH FIELD!"

They thundered out of the room without another glance and it was pure silence when they had left. Hermione and Ron exchanged stunned expressions.

"Oh well."

---

It was a fine morning when the flags of the Quidditch fields were drawn up for the game. Harry woke early to prepare himself. Well, trying to mentally prepare himself. Thinking of vampires at each waking hour and dreaming of them at night were very hard to change. Everything kept reminding him of Talims. And WHEN he finally got ease off the vampire subject and was walking down the empty corridors, getting hyped up for the game, Draco Malfoy came up to him.

"I wish you luck in the Quidditch Match," said he, watching Harry intensely. Harry said nothing, trying stubbornly to look anywhere else but him. A light blush crept up his face. A silence intervened.

"But it is, after all, against Slytherin, so I shall not hold back for the Great Harry Potter," continued Malfoy, and slowly, his hand went to trace down Harry's cheek and to his chin. Tilting it up lightly, totally losing his control and not realizing it, he said, "I want you even more now..."

That blatant remark sent tiny shivers up Harry's spine but before he could do anything Draco leaned down and gave Harry a very passionate kiss. His lips were warm and soft, and Harry closed his eyes as he felt a thrill rush through him. The Talim withdrew quickly though, glancing one last time before turning around and making his way to the great hall. Harry Potter could only follow.

He was still thinking of that very experience when he was already soaring high above the clouds, looking everywhere for the snitch. He knew he had to find it quick, as he was handicapped against a vampire, but he did not lose hope. Malfoy didn't seem to look so confident yet.

It had been a long time until he spotted a glimmering golden something just above one of the Quidditch hoops. Malfoy seemed to have spotted it first and he was already charging to it. Harry wasted not one more second as he too, dived down to catch it. It seemed pretty downright that Malfoy would get the snitch.

But Harry was stubborn.

He would not stop his broom.

He kept on going.

Somehow, he knew he shouldn't give up. He knew he could win it.

As if his instincts were superbly correct, a bludger hurled about and swished right passed Malfoy, giving a second of hesitation for the blonde and before he knew it…

Harry had the snitch.

It was a magnificent game. The students burst in wild screams and shouts below, Harry held the snitch tightly and thrust it up in the air. The game won. He did it.

Everyone couldn't stop talking about it. The crowds exploded with questions and congratulations and barely coherent words in the unbelievable noise. Harry Potter landed safely amidst all the people and after a good few minutes was able to escape to the private dressing rooms. The Quidditch team congratulated him fiercely.

But after all the chaos that ensued, Harry could still think of only one thing.

He had seen Draco smiling.

---

"Harry!" Exclaimed Ron, slapping the raven haired boy playfully at the back, "Well won game!"

Harry grinned and sat down on the common room chair.

"It was magnificent, Harry," Smiled Hermione, across from him, a bit busy with her book. Harry shrugged, "You know, I didn't see professor Lupin in the crowd…"

Ron blinked and seated himself on his Wizard's Chess seat. "Oh come on Harry, you know he said he was suppose to be here in secret! Of course he wouldn't just show up!"

Harry said nothing.

"I'm sure he watched by some other means though," Continued Hermione, looking up, "I'm sure he wouldn't miss it for the world."

"…You guys are probably right… It's just that… I kinda miss Sirius…And Remus… With all their Talim things there's barely enough time for me to them..."

Only the sounds of the fireplace were heard for a while.

"…Speaking of Talims," Said Ron, trying to change the subject, "The Credere Ritual needs four other people aside from the person who will receive the ritual."

"Hm?" Harry perked up, "That means we have to tell one other person about Malfoy being a vampire…"

"Err…No…" Ron said, looking down at the carpet. Harry instantly looked bewildered, "What—"

"It's like this, Harry," Said Hermione, placing down her book, "By this time tomorrow, we would have had our ritual items ready … The problem is, exactly -when- the ritual should be happening, me and Ron would be in Hagrid's hut, helping Hagrid in his Diricawl case."

"Can't we postpone it?" Asked Harry a bit shaken, Hermione solemnly shook her head. "The ritual must be done on a New Moon, and when Pluto and Mars align each other with Earth. This only happens once in 20 years. The lucky and strange thing is, it happens tomorrow."

Harry stood up, "But who are we going to tell? Who's willing to help us? Ginny? Fred, George, who?"

Ron gasped, "Don't ever tell any of my brothers and sisters. Our family is kind of, super anti-vampire people… Something happened in the past…Don't ever mention anything about them… We were brought up to hate them…"

"Is that why you hate him so much?" Hermione asked softly.

Ron shrugged, "I've hated him since a long time ago but now that I know what he's been though and will be going through… I guess… I guess… Nah, I still hate him."

"But who will do the ritua—"

The door swung open. Neville hobbled inside, "Harry! Goyle's been looking for you, seems pretty pissed…"

Harry stared a few moments, "Ah, he can wait there for a few minutes longer—"

"Uh no, I tried that already. He needs to see you urgent and alone."

"What in Tyrant's name does he want?" Raged Ron, standing, "If he came here to fight I—"

"Ron, it's ok," Replied Harry, walking past Neville and to the door, "Thanks Nev,"

Neville looked back and said, "If you need any of us, just call."

"Of course."

--

The small room that contained the fat lady was orange-red in color, the bulbs in the ceiling casting straight streaks down to the floor. The other paintings designed to keep the Fat Lady company were all empty. Harry had problems getting out of the common room too. He had to kick it wide open. The fat lady left for tea a few minutes ago.

Goyle was leaning against a wall. "Potter." He growled.

"Why come here right at bedtime, Goyle?" Asked Harry suspiciously.

Goyle marched closer to Harry, "Stop getting close to Draco, or you'll be sorry."

Harry took a step back, "What do you mean? You can't tell me who I could talk to and who I cant."

"I'll tell his dad about you, you know. He'd yell at Draco for even thinking of taking friends like you."

"you're such a weasel," Mumbled Harry.

"As you are a fag." Countered the bulky Slytherin, "Don't talk to Draco."

Harry challenged the Slytherin, "I can't promise you anything,"

"Than I'll tell his father,"

"And I'll tell everyone who you've been drawing of in rather… interesting positions…"

A very long, disturbing silence. Harry was smirking.

Goyle slammed his fist against the wall, "I hate you, Potter."

--

The pain from my cuts seemed to seethe through my skin. Blood started coming forth at some imitation of a stigmata. I hissed at it all.

Hissed.

Hissed.

Rasped.

My eye felt as if I had bruises all over it. It felt as if tears were rolling down my cheeks, truth was that it was blood. It was blood.

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

I like this feeling.

I smeared more blood across my arm, just to feel the seething sensation and the sticky feel of it. The blood. All of it… . I could smell it. I think my blonde hair is soaked red too.

My pupils dilated then changed into red.

My heart started pumping faster. My eyes were getting blurry, I knew they were changing colors. My head throbbed and ached until it felt like it exploded.

I hissed again.

Potter will be mine.


	7. Secrets and Rituals Part 1

Chapter 7

  
  
You may be wondering why this chapter is so short. It's because this is part one of chapter 7, and the second part will come out sometime else. This fic might be a bit rushed, due to the fact that I've been roaving around for public computers all the time. Think of all the moneyI've wasted! Oh well.   


*** 

The Great Hall was luminous; everything seemed to shine in warm radiance. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger seemed to be healthy and fine, but their expressions were stern and serious. It was a grave discussion, and they were talking softly, making sure no one else was listening over. 

"Tomorrow is the day, Harry," said Hermione quietly, stirring her porridge, "We MUST do it tomorrow or never." 

Harry shook his head, "It's impossible to trust anyone but you and Ron, it's impossible to do it tomorrow. Can't we move it a day after? How about before or after the Diricawl case? Can't you miss the case itself?" 

Hermione was exasperated, "Harry please, we have to help Hagrid or he'll be sent to Azkaban… again. Do you want that to happen?" 

"Of course not!" Hissed Harry, looking insulted, "It's just that--" 

"Think about it, Harry," said Ron, looking around, "If we're late or don't attend the case all is lost. Being punctual is one of the best signs you could give the court. If we lose this not only do we have to pay money but also Hagrid will be convicted as a murderer… We'll help you think of other people, okay?" Harry shook his head. "I can only trust both of you… These are dark matters, you know. It should be kept secret. People can just turn Draco in and then what will happen? He'll be killed, not just be sent to Azkaban, but he'll be killed. He's not a wizard… well properly NOT a wizard… They'll kill him… they will…" he trailed off, eyes unfocused, seeming to be looking far, imagining the horrors that crept into his mind at night. 

Hermione banged her fist on the table, standing up. A few people turned their heads to watch. "So you value him more than Hagrid?" 

Her look was insulting. It was as if she was judging him, as if he did something that was actually wrong. All Harry did was ask a question! That blew it - he was offended, and suddenly irritated. He stood up to face her, 

"You don't know how I feel about both of them. Why can't you stick your nose in someone else's feelings? " 

Some in the Great Hall hushed and many watched, but Harry took no notice. He glared at Hermione, who looked stunned and pale, "Who do you think you are, trying to know my feelings like an expert?" "Harry! That's just low!" Ron gasped, standing up and looking at the Boy-who-Lived in a shocked manner. Hermione's eyes started watered a bit, and her face was red in embarrassment. But she shook her head, "I only mean it because you're…blinded. You use to care so much for Hagrid, and all this talk about moving the case or we not attending it… It doesn't seem like you… We only want to help you, Harry." 

'What help is she doing just about now?' Thought Harry, his heart flaring in deep annoyance. "Help me by steering out of the way… If you have to read my every thought and every feeling just leave me alone." 

With that he stalked out of the great hall. He didn't turn back. His hands were in fists. Just as he disappeared into the gigantic walls Ron moved to follow him but Hermione grabbed his cloak. 

"He needs time alone to think…" She croaked.   
Ron gazed at her. She had her head down. Probably crying.   
"Harry didn't mean those things, Hermione…"   
It took her a few moments before she sighed, "I…I know." 

-- 

How could she SAY that? Thought Harry as he stormed into the corridors. How could she have the nerve to think I could not care less for the dear, gentle giant? Harry would do anything to prove his loyalty to him. 

He had to admit, he had over-reacted at the accusation. But all this was coming in a rush. How could Hermione believe he cared more about his worst enemy than his close friend? Harry was hurt despite the anger he threw at her. He felt misunderstood, as if she was pointing out all the things that weren't true at all. 

He cared for Draco the same way as he cared for Hagrid, not surpassing. He cared for them with the same tenderness. But… 

Guilt began to emerge. He shouldn't have burst out at her like that; after all, she was just trying to help. He winced. He should not have pushed them away. He should have explained his rash behavior. He was only irritated because he was in deep shit, because pressure was building up against him. Hermione only wanted to help, and he had hurt her. He shook his head and turned to the left corridor; to the dead end to sit and think. 

Then he froze. 

"Draco! What happened?" 

The corridor was splattered with blood. A strange, coppery scent filled the air. Harry swallowed, and walked towards the gruesome hallway. A blonde figure was kneeling, head leaning on the bloodstained wall. His shirt was soaked in the red liquid; eyes closed shut.   
Harry's heart stopped. He paled. 

Draco was dead. 

Harry rushed forward. He didn't care about the warm crimson staining his clothes, or the strong smell; he took Draco into his arms. Tears of despair formed in Harry's beautiful eyes, and with a hand he frantically felt below Draco's shirt. 'No,' he thought. 'He couldn't be, he must not be.' Trembling, Harry laid his palm on Draco's chest. A faint heartbeat met his quivering fingers. 

Relief washed over him and he leaned on Draco. He closed his eyes a few moments to calm himself. 

"Draco," cooed Harry, shaking the blonde lightly. "Please… I can't carry you… Wake up…" A few moments passed. Harry gazed and traced Draco's pale face. A sleeping porcelain doll; not an innocent one, for his cheeks were stained with blood. He was cold, chilling; paling even more than he should. Why were his wounds bleeding again? Was this part of his twisted fate? Would Draco have to endure this and more just because he was a Talim heir, because he was born into his family? 

The waxing moon moved out of the dark, voluminous clouds, giving rays of milky moonlight into the corridor from the single window. Harry slowly peeled the blonde's shirt from his body and used it to wipe the gashes on his arms. From afar, Draco's pale torso looked unmoving, as if dead, but Harry knew otherwise and continued to talk softly. 

"Please Draco… Stir a bit. I can't carry you like this… Please?" 

It took a few moments before Draco's icy fingers grasped Harry's wrist. Harry's scar started to burn but he ignored it for the moment, because Draco began to mumble incoherently. Harry inhaled and leaned closer. He could not understand the Slytherin's words. 

The Gryffindor watched as the blonde muttered soft whispers, his eyebrows knotted, both sweat and blood smeared upon his face.   
Harry held the colder boy closer. 

Then Draco's eyes shot open. The two cruel, red gems glared in the moonlight. 

In a flash Harry was on the floor, his head swirling, white hands tightening on his neck. Harry's sight was blurry; his glasses torn askew, but he could see the figure above him grinning viciously. He struggled and struggled but the vampire had more strength than he let on, and was successfully pinning him down easily. 

Draco was smirking. But it was far from the way he leered before. There was a madness that glinted in those vicious eyes, something unnatural, something terrifying. Harry closed his eyes. He was getting dizzy, he could not breathe, and all strength seemed lost. He felt blood rushing up to his head; could imagine his face growing redder. He started to choke, "Draco…Please…. Stop…" 

Was this the end? 

Suddenly Draco's weight was thrown aside and the vampire landed with a thud. Harry winced and sat up, caressing his neck. It was probably bleeding, he thought, as his fingers ran over the painful wounds. Draco had used his nails to dig into him. Harry shook his head and strained to see who had pushed the vampire aside. 

Two boys were now rolling in the blood. The blonde was on the ground, writhing and hissing, with a raven head on top of him, struggling to keep the vampire restrained. The raven head looked strangely familiar…   
"Blaise!" Harry exclaimed, disbelieving. 

Blaise turned his head to glance at him. There were blood marks on his cheek. Draco saw his chance, and with a new, unexplained strength he shoved at Blaise. At the vampire's power, Blaise flew and slammed into the wall. 

Harry stood up as Blaise grimaced and whipped out his wand. He grinned, blood now dripping down the side of his face. He took a rockety step forward. 

"Now I've got you in a tight fix, you Talim." He said, spitefulness lacing words. "Instant galleons if I blast you through the ceiling, isn't it? What a chance. At last I get to put a sock into your saucy replies. It's a pity, yes, well, too bad. Goodbye, Draco." 

His wand was raised. His eyes were set. The vampire stood motionless, as if fearful. A green glow coated the tip of Blaise's wand. Harry recognized that glow from the nightmares that haunted his childhood nights; dreams that he had pondered upon time and time again. The same green light that killed his parents almost 15 years ago. 

"No!" Yelled Harry, sprinting in a burst of newfound adrenaline. Before he knew it the Gryffindor had his back to Blaise, wrapping his arms around the blonde Slytherin. He did not know what he was doing.   
Blaise lowered his wand.   
"Harry get out of the way! Do you want to die for that thing?!"   
"He's as human as both of us, Blaise," Answered Harry, closing his eyes, "Money's not worth anyone's life… Especially his." 

Blaise was about to say that Draco wasn't human anymore but instead blinked, gripping his wand tighter. 'Noble words sound very stupid… And they suck,' he thought, watching Harry. But as he pondered over it, he realized that it was indeed true; that Draco was still considered human; and immediately felt ashamed for his recent acts of greed and selfishness. But before he could say anything, his eyes went wide.   
"Potter!" Look out, He's going to bite!" 

Harry felt breathing on his neck. He felt Draco's fingernails digging into his back so fiercely that he knew it would mark. 'Draco isn't hesitating,' thought Harry, 'Draco is gone. His Talim self has won over him. All he'll care for is my blood, and his happiness.' A pause entered his muddled mind. 'If this was happiness for him, so be it." 

He kept still. He waited. Even drew closer. Blaise stomped when he realized what Harry was thinking. 

"Potter you may be brave but you're stupid! Draco's been trying to fight his Talim self so that you wouldn't get hurt! He's been starving himself so that you wouldn't be his victim! Don't you get it; he'd forsake himself for you! What the hell are you trying to prove, suddenly giving yourself up and wasting all that Draco's done for you?" 

It hit Harry as a pang in his heart. A moment's time froze. He had made the same mistake as before, taking his parents' sacrifice for granted. And now Draco's. What is he doing?! 

His emerald eyes shot open, and he had tried to back away, but it was too late. A burning sensation stung his neck. Coldness ran through his veins. Two large fangs sank deep into his flesh. Harry cringed in pain. What had he done? How stupid he's been! 

The world faded into darkness. Everything was silent. Was he dead? There was no more pain, no more noise, no more anything and he wished there was. He called out in this strange abyss, but no sound came forth from his lips. He could not even utter. Where was he? 

So he had failed. He had given himself up. It was all in vain – all who saved his life shouldn't have even tried; Harry just wasted it in stupidity. He was a fool. 

As he swam in his depression, thinking of so many other things he could have done, the conscious world licked him, until life became clearer and more vibrant, he could hear, smell, taste, feel, see. A figure, one he could not recognize, was crouching before him. The figure was shadowy and blurry, and brought Harry's glasses back to the crook of his nose. Harry stared.   
Professor Remus Lupin smiled solemnly back at him. 

"Wh…what happened?" 

====   
Ok this is only part one of Chapter 7. I had to cut it because I have so little progress each time I sit at a computer!   
I'm sorry for the long wait, and please pray that I have my own computer soon? Hehe. Please review.   
  



	8. NOTE

***PLEASE PRAY FOR A COMPUTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or, buy me one and send it to me... I'M DYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


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